Hungry Hearts
by Kaydance
Summary: Love can make people do such strange things. Such strange, wonderful, terrifying, and amazing things.
1. Promises and Postage Stamps

**Author's Note: Yup! A full-length, chapter-filled story from me! I envision this tale being between six and ten chapters. YAY! xD It's starting out in a fairly common place (the kids are 17 years old - Junior year in High School, I should add) and draws somewhat from The Patakis and The Jungle Movie (You'll see soon enough that my TJM wouldn't have the whole class in San Lorenzo). So, read through this and tell me what you think! Feedback makes me smile!**

**Chapter One: Promises and Postage Stamps**

* * *

"Miss Pataki."

Helga snapped her gum, not even bothering to look up. She was fully aware of what Mrs. Tullens would say.

"_Helga!_ You're still wearing that hat! How many times must we go through this? Hats are _not_ to be worn on school grounds and most _certainly_ not in my class!"

"Mrs. Tullens… I happen to have a very serious scalp condition," stated Helga monotonously, "and I'm certain that neither you nor my classmates would want to look at my flaky, oozy head."

The English teacher groaned. "You'll have to bring a doctor's note explaining this. Can you do that Helga?"

"Can do! I'll most certainly remember tomorrow!" The sarcastic sweetness that dripped from her voice caused an assortment of quiet laughs around her.

"See that you do." Mrs. Tullens returned to her seat by the desk, deciding to drop the issue for the day. The bell would be ringing anyway.

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Helga slammed the door behind her and slunk up to her bedroom, leaving a pile of books and folders on top of a low bookshelf.

In the safety of her comfortably soft-pink room, she flung off her plaid pink cabbie hat and pulled her hair free from its loose pigtails. She reached up and felt for the old pink bow that she wore daily, always concealed by that faithful cabbie. There was no way that she could keep from smiling, and there was certainly no way that she'd go so much as a day without that precious, frayed little ribbon.

A slip of paper under her pillow caught her attention and she pulled it out, softening out the creases affectionately. It was her last note from Arnold, a full six months old. The boy had left for South America before his Freshman year. But what had hurt was that he had simply disappeared. Not even his grandparents would divulge where he had gone, and no one received a word from him for nearly a year. It was hard to believe that it took him an entire year to say that he had gotten news from his parents; that he wanted to know; that an old family friend, Eduardo had come to take him to them. But Arnold had written fifteen letters to her since then, and sweet words made everything forgivable, understandable even. Helga stacked up as many pillows as she could find and curled up with the most recent letter.

It explained, fondly, the wild beauty of the jungle and how he was studying under the head medicine man of the village. He was fascinated by the natural remedies and noted that there were herbs in the jungle that had yet to be discovered by 'outsiders'. He hoped to apply these to Western medicine one day. People could really be helped. And he had found a young, abandoned fruit bat and was raising it until it could fly. He had never seen the larger bats anywhere in San Lorenzo and was amazed to find the little guy all alone. It had been dubbed Ghale, which Helga found, to her immense (and in all honesty, a tad repulsed) surprise, anagrammed to her name.

Helga closed her eyes for a moment, holding the letter to her chest as she tried to picture the primordial trees that all but managed to block out sunlight, and the one spot in the jungle where one could see the vast stretch of stars, far brighter than imaginable for a girl who lived under the city lights.

She sighed softly and grabbed a notebook and pencil from her nightstand. It was time to write to her beloved.

_Dear Arnold,_

She paused, tapping the eraser-end to her chin. Dear? Sure, they were acceptably close, and 'dear' was a customary greeting, but it sounded so hoity-toity. She had never sincerely called anyone 'dear' in her life… at least not out loud, in public. No. 'Dear' was definitely out. The words were quickly erased.

_Footballhead,_

_How long has it been since we've actually spoken? Almost three years! You must have changed so much! I still picture you as that middle school boy who ate lunch with me every day when Pheebs and I ate separate periods. Yeesh! Doesn't that sound all silly and sentimental? I think it does. Oh well._

_All your letters mean so much to me, and before I smack myself for sounding all gushy, I need to emphasize that I really do mean it. God, South America sounds gorgeous. I can barely picture a place where parrots fly around— no cages, no bird seed—with monkeys and snakes and whatever else lives out there. I mean, you're able to go to an ancient temple every day and just walk around. All I have here are a few abandoned buildings scattered around town. And they all smell awful._

_Sorry it's taken me so long to reply to your letter, but I just haven't had anything amazingly spectacular to write about. Miriam's twelve-stepping. Have I told you about that? And she's forcing Bob to take some sort of spiritual-betterment type class. It's like anger-management, but with uber-hippies. _

_Your descriptions of the jungle have really inspired my short stories. I'll have to send you one sometime. I bet you'd get a kick out of the goody-goody lead in my best lil' tale._

_Let's see… What else do I need to say? This letter feels too short, like I should have more to tell you. Just please… come home soon. Everyone still misses you, and we all get so excited when you write us (your grandmother throws little celebrations. She's a lot of fun, actually!). But if you can't come home, send a plane ticket. Come on! You know you want me out there! I'm hoping to hear from you again soon._

_Your Loving Tormenter,_

_Helga._

Reading through the letter aloud, Helga straightened up and sighed. It hardly sounded like her, but at least it was sincere. And although the closing made her flinch, she left it as it was. The words were sarcastic, yet very true. They described her wonderfully.

A soft thud pulled Helga out of her thoughts. She hopped to her feet and moved cautiously to the closet, from where the sound had come. Peeking in the door, she found that a pink book had fallen from….

"Hmm…?" Helga frowned. She didn't keep _any_ of her poetry books on the shelves. Strange, but whatever. She pushed the hanging shirts to one side and tossed the book into one of many cardboard boxes that were stacked where her Arnold Shrine was once kept. She had long since abandoned the more cultish aspects of her obsession; a change she willingly admitted was for the better. Of course, it would take a hoard of rabid, giant rats to keep her from writing poems about that gorgeous boy. And those rats would have to do quite a number on her!

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The mysterious falling book fading from her mind, Helga stood by the mailbox, a letter with proper postage to make its way to San Lorenzo clasped in one hand. With a nervous sigh, she opened the mailbox door, deposited the letter, and raised the little flag.

"Five…."

_You can do this, Helga ole girl…_

"Four."

_Just turn around and go back inside…_

"Three."

_Helga! Go inside!_

"Two…."

_Don't be a moron! Criminey! GO INSIDE!_

"One."

Helga groaned and removed the letter from the mailbox. It would soon be hidden away in a shoebox with the rest of her replies. Not one had made it to Arnold's hands. Not a single one.

"Next time," she promised to herself, tucking the letter into her jeans pocket.


	2. That Tingly Feeling Part 1

**Author's note: Oh my good golly goodness! I actually managed to update within a week! This isn't like me! Don't expect this kind of frequency too often. But I'm having fun with this story and actually have some free time! We're still in common territory with this chapter, but oh well. I like it. M'kay… Enough jabbering! Onward with chapter two! Have fun!**

**Oh! And Hey Arnold was created by Craig Bartlett, owned by Viacom, Nickelodeon, and whoever. And the song "Thank You" belongs to Dido.**

**Chapter Two: That Tingly Feeling (Part 1)**

* * *

Helga paused on the middle stairstep, hearing familiar singing coming from the kitchen.

"…_I'm soaking through and through. Then you handed me a towel and all I see is you…."_

She scratched at her head and stared down at her thick, crocheted puppy-dog bed-socks. She couldn't quite describe the feeling the song planted in her, but it certainly did hit close to home.

"Hey, mom. You're up early. It's five in the morning!" she shouted down to her mother.

"…_because you're neeeaaaar me…. _Hm? Oh! Hey, honey! Since you're such an early riser, I thought I'd start getting up earlier too; maybe try making breakfast every once in a while… You know, Mom Stuff."

Helga smirked. "Okay. I'm gonna get ready for school before we start the whole mother-daughter bonding… thing… for the morning. 'Kay?" She turned on her toes and hurried up the steps, returning to her room.

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Her make-up collection was larger than she dared believe she'd ever need -- eyeshadow in fifteen colors, mascara and eyeliner that she never worn, and far too many tinted lip glosses and lipsticks. Despite her disdain for the heavily made-up look, her mother and sister absolutely loved buying the stuff for her. Her sister especially enjoyed using her as a sort of make-up guinea pig. Any product Olga was uncertain about would be first tested on Helga, since they shared similar facial features (save, of course for the unibrow that Helga stubbornly kept).

Helga brushed on some powder and swept a layer of sheer pink shadow over her eyes. The task complete, her eyes switched to the closet, a place that had been causing her great unease as of late. She had never been a child who feared the monsters that lurked in shadowy places… and she still wasn't, but the feeling remained. And though she wouldn't admit it, she moved towards said closet with great trepidation, and found herself unable to breathe with ease until the light had been flicked on and her outfit for the day tossed on her bed. Jeans and a pink t-shirt. Nothing fancy. And, naturally, the look with topped off with a pink bow, hidden underneath a faithful cabbie.

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Once she was dressed, Helga went to the kitchen, where her mother was sitting with two stacks of slightly burnt-around-the-edges pancakes, dripping with a rather thin-looking syrup.

"It's all organic," stated Miriam with a hint of pride. "The syrup is pretty runny, but it tastes good, so I think we'll survive," she added. She smiled as Helga sat down, tapping her fingernails over the tabletop.

"So… mom… Dad's still asleep?"

"Yeah, you know it takes a lot to wake that man. We'll see if we can't get him to wake up with us someday, though." Miriam laughed cheerfully and jammed a mouthful of pancakes into her mouth. "An' 'ow are fings o'oing wiff ooo?" she asked before swallowing. "Ahem. Excuse me, darling. How are things going with you?"

Helga smiled, gesturing at the ceiling with her fork. "Pretty good. The C in math is a B now… well, almost… But it will be!" She waved up both hands defensively, accidentally flinging a piece of pancake across the room.

Miriam chuckled. "And the… watermelons, and gum… and footballs… in your closet? Still gone?"

Helga nearly choked on her pancakes. "Y-yes," she whispered.

"And you're sure about Alateen?"

"Yes." Her voice found its stability once more. "I saw a shrink until I was thirteen. I think I'm good." Much to her own surprise, there wasn't so much a hint of hostility in her voice. She was even smiling. "But, hey, how long are you gonna be on this hippie binge? It really didn't work out so well when Dad tried it!"

"We are trying to be a healthier, more spiritually aware family… and there will be no living in a hut this time."

"Sounds good to me," laughed Helga.

"Good."

Helga found herself laughing as she pushed her chair out and stood up. "I'm going for a walk before school." She stuck her plate in the sink and waved before disappearing out the door.

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The eastern sky was completely overtaken with those poofy pink sunrise clouds. Helga would put those clouds in the same category as cotton candy—pretty to look at, but deadly in excess. But who was she to complain? The weather had been undeniably beautiful for the past few days.

After what Helga hoped was an hour's worth of walking, she switched courses and jogged towards the high school.

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"Ohayo, Helga," piped a short Asian girl with choppy hair.

"Bon matin, Pheebs," replied Helga, in the only other language she even vaguely understood.

"Actually, Helga, the French don't say 'good morning'. 'Bonjour' would be a more typical greeting."

"Phoebe…Quit knowing things," said Helga, faking annoyance. A bit of regret hit when she spoke those words, however. Phoebe's grades had been slipping after all, even if only by a little. While she maintained her honor roll status, the girl's vast knowledge hadn't been coming as naturally as it once did.

"Quitting," smiled Phoebe, obviously not taking offense. "Oh, Did you happen to remember your excuse?"

"Excuse?"

"So you can continue to wear you hat in Mrs. Tullen's class."

"So I…." Helga's face fell. "Crap."

"Sorry, Helga. I should have thought to write you up a just-in-caser."

"Ugh…" They stopped in front of the English room. Helga put on her brave face and tried a laugh.

"Really, Helga… I don't think she'll do anything about it. Though she stresses the rules and wants respect, she admires you and your writing. She'll probably just remind you to bring your excuse next week."

Helga rocked back on her heels and finally walked through the door, with Phoebe close behind.

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The entirety of English class had been just that—class. Mrs. Tullen's went on a passionate rant about Beowulf, something that not one person in the room had enjoyed reading. All knowledge of the epic had been tossed from Helga's memory within a week of the test on it, and Helga did not regret this at all.

But once Mrs. Tullens had finished her lesson for the day, she approached Helga's desk, frowning. "I assume you didn't bring your excuse."

"Come on, class is almost over. Does it really matter now?" Helga mentally smacked herself. She could have easily had time to fake an excuse while the teacher had been on her Beowulf-rant. But, chances were that she would have seen right through something written messily on notebook paper. Oh well.

"Helga, you really need to have an excuse. Please, just remove the hat for the remainder of the period."

"B-but… It's extremely contagious. I don't want to endanger my peers." She direly wished she wouldn't have stuttered on the first word. Stuttering showed weakness and people could sense weakness. Or was it fear? Or did that only work with dogs?

Suddenly, Helga found the world around her slowing down. Something terrible was about to happen; she could feel it. But her mind was working at the same pace as the slow-motion hand inching its way towards her head. If only she could think faster, surely she would be able to react fast enough to prevent whatever tragedy was about to befall her. That hand…. It was reaching for… For her head… For her…

And the world caught up with her, crashing down with a swooshing sound. "_**NO!**_" gasped Helga. But it was all too late; Mrs. Tullens had snatched the hat away and left a neatly tied pink bow for all to see.

There was no laughter, but rather cold smirks and harsh, whispery sounds. Laughter would have been better; Helga could have laughed too. At least that would have felt less awkward.

Mrs. Tullens simply dropped the hat on Helga's desk. Taking it from the girl had achieved its own special level of wrongness. Screaming a child's secrets to the world would probably occupy a similar level.

"So _what?_" hissed Helga, standing up and stomping to the front of the room. "It's a freaking _ribbon_, people! And if I want to tie a bow in my hair, like I've done since I was three years old, I'll damn well do it!" She stared each person down, careful not to be the first to drop her gaze (only Phoebe, who had smacked a snickering brown-haired boy, was spared the cold stare). Weakness and fear would not catch up with her again. No, Helga G. Pataki would not stand for people taking pity on her. She wouldn't pretend that she didn't notice the way they looked at her. There was absolutely no way that she would allow herself to sink in this mess.

And no one would _ever_ be allowed to look down on her for caring about something… or someone.

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The cabbie hat had been returned to its rightful place atop Helga's head. And people smiled awkwardly whenever she walked by. At one point, before math class, a certain wheezy boy had patted her shoulder. Helga had bitten down on her lip, spun around, and glared at him until he lost his nerve and walked off. She found this to be almost as effective as punching his lights out.

As Helga made her way through the commons, towards the cafeteria, she found her shoulder under attack once more. Someone had draped an arm around her in what she assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture.

"Hey, what's the big idea, Princess?"

Rhonda laughed, amused at the use of the old nickname. "I heard about the little… snafu in English today. And I must tell you, Helga, there's no shame in the situation. Why, just the other week, I realized that my favorite top had a rip all down the sleeve. I had been wearing it all day!"

"Is this supposed to make me feel better or something? Besides… It's no big deal. Take your sympathy to someone who needs it."

"Oh, Helga, Helga, Helga. I know you still miss him, but a bow is such a symbolic thing. And I'm sure it's ratty by now. You shouldn't need—…"

Helga zoned out then. '_I know you still miss him'_? How did that uppity rich girl know about what the bow represented? Phoebe knew, as did Miriam, but neither of them would share such a personal detail. _Ever_. So… How did Rhonda acquire this important bit of information? That wheezy guy! Brainy… Helga's eyebrow rose. What _was_ that boy's real name anyway? Something with a J…? Jacob, Jeffery…. No. Neither of those was right. Brainy… What sounded like a name that would go along with Brainy? Alfred? Samuel? Nathaniel? Ugh! No! She had to know his name, right? She'd known the guy since pre-school!

Five long, meticulously manicured nails digging into her shoulder brought Helga out of her run-away thoughts. "Ow… Wha…?"

They had reached the cafeteria, and Rhonda's eyes were locked on the center of a small crowd near the end of the room. There, stood the one boy who could always stop Helga in her tracks and fill her with an unparalleled warmth. He had gained a deep tan and was in desperate need of a haircut, but most of all, he was Arnold.

Helga tried to pull away from the brunette, but those nails remained stuck in her shoulder. "Hey… Let go," she said breathily. She elbowed the other girl's arm sharply, finally dislodging the grasp.

She broke through the already growing crowd of once-upon-a-time PS 118 students that had begun to circle around the boy. He caught her gaze in an instant, that familiar smile glowing just for her. Staring up at him, she realized just how vivid his eyes were. There was absolutely no way that any other human being could have eyes that were so… enticingly electric. They drew her in.

And before Helga knew what she was doing, before she could stop herself, before she could even _care_ that all the eyes of the room were upon her, she had thrown her arms around Arnold and pressed her lips against his.

* * *

**Note ctnd: Whaaa? A/H-ness already! Yup! xD But how, oh how can the story continue from here? Hm… some obligatory fluff, and then you'll see. (Heh… Mhm.) And "Part 2" of this chapter won't be until chapter 6 or 7. I feel I should mention that for some reason (shrug).**


	3. Her Favorite Dream

**Author's Note: Okay! Here we go again! Of course, I don't own HA! And I also don't own Sweet Child O' Mine (Guns 'N' Roses does!). I'm not so sure about this chapter, but eh… why bother doubting it? Judge for yourself! Have fun!**

**Chapter Three: Her Favorite Dream**

* * *

Helga closed her eyes at a wonderful realization—Arnold had wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. And was truly breathtaking and heart-stopping was that he was actually kissing her _back_.

How long had she been waiting for this simple moment? The years of following him, hoping that his perspective might shift, just a little, in her favor. And then, there were the middle school years, when she had actually stepped into the role of close friend. If she was down, he would hug her far too softly. If he was down, he'd rest his head against her shoulder. And being subjected to that level of closeness had been torture; she almost missed her old status as 'that annoying girl'. But then, he had left her, and she could only sit on the Sunset Arm's rooftop, wishing that she could see the stars.

Of course, none of that mattered now. His grip on her had tightened and she was kissing him desperately. When they finally broke apart, Helga could feel a tingling sensation humming over her lips, far less metaphorically than she thought possible.

And finally, she remembered where she was. Dozens of eyes were deadlocked on her and Arnold. Chances were, not one person had blinked during the entire scene. How many surprises could this girl toss at them in one day?

"What are all gaping at?" Stupid question, very stupid question. Why did she even bother to ask it? She needed to elaborate. "It's how tribes say 'welcome back' in San Lorenzo, right, Footballhead?"

No response. Someone in the crowd chuckled.

"_Right_?"

"Y-….No." He grabbed Helga's wrist and stared out over the crowd. "I missed her. Is that a crime?" His eyes fell back on the girl in pink. "I'm not going to run away again."

Helga felt the blood rush hotly to her cheeks. _Yeesh, Arnold,_ she thought. _What a moron, making me stand here on display! It's embarrassing; it's humiliating; it's…it's wonderful standing next to you, my love._

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Helga sat across from Arnold, watching silently as people shot questions at him. There were so many things she wanted to ask but… Was it even possible that he was there? It took an impossible measure of restraint to keep herself from grabbing for him—anything to keep him from disappearing again.

"Helga?" When she didn't respond, Arnold reached across the table, lightly nudging her shoulder.

"Hmn? No—I…" Wait… What? What was she saying no to? She bit down on her lip.

"Meet me in the third parking bay after school…. Okay?"

Helga could only nod. This was too amazing—too unbelievably, perfectly amazing.

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A ceiling fan whirled slowly, circulating the air of the large (but somehow, still extremely stuffy) room.

"Is it true?" a wide-eyed brunette whispered, tapping Helga's shoulder frantically.

"What?" Helga hissed back, turning in her seat.

"That some guy flew from the middle of the jungle _just_ to see you!?"

"No! Well, I guess… NO! Not _just_ to see me… I mean… Well…" _Get it together, Helga! You don't need to answer these questions. You're making yourself look like an idiot!_ "Whether or not 'some guy' thinks enough of me to fly from 'the middle of the jungle' to be with me is none of your business. This is study hall; why don't you study something?" With a curt nod and a strange sense of accomplishment, Helga turned away.

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The wind swept warmly through the parking lot that afternoon. Cars droned by, lulling Helga back into her thoughts. The entire day had been bubbling with chatter over Arnold's return. Of course, no conversation over the subject would have been complete without mentioning the happenings in the lunch room. And while there had been the expected 'he could do much better' comments (and shockingly enough, even '_she_ could do much better' ones), the vast majority found the entire situation endearing. Lovers, separated for years, come to terms with their emotions only find themselves unable to reach eachother. The entire story was worthy of a romance novel, in the eyes of most of Hillwood High's Junior class.

Where he had been, what he had been doing, why he had suddenly appeared in Hillwood High's cafeteria late that May morning—those questions were easily pushed off to the side. There was a future to think of; and there was the bright side that a certain golden-haired boy had always looked to.

"Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting!"

Helga opened her eyes, staring dreamily ahead. Arnold practically glowed under the bright afternoon light. _Snap out of it,_ her thoughts hissed at her. _You have your whole life to stare at him. Your whole… Oh GOD! Our wedding! What will our wedding song be?! Ugh! Just… Stop it already, Helga! You have to stay out of your head! What is with you today!? Okay… the love of your life thing, but still!_

By the time Helga managed to calm her mind, Arnold was standing beside her, tying a bandana over her eyes. "I don't want you to see the surprise." He placed a hand on her back and led her to a car.

"Oh boy, you're kidnapping me, aren't you, Arnoldo?"

"You know how long it's been since anyone's called me 'Arnoldo', 'Footballhead', 'Hair Boy', 'Head Boy', or any of those names? Too long." He opened the car door, helping Helga to her seat.

"You _are_ kidnapping me!" she gasped, feigning terror. The girl snickered under her breath as the door closed.

Arnold got into the driver's seat beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Would you care? Wouldn't you run away with me?" His tone was playfully suave, but there was something else there—something Helga couldn't quite pinpoint.

Regardless, Helga found herself holding back laughter. "Yeah. Anywhere." But… that was true, wasn't it? After all, it felt so natural, being with him.

"Then don't worry about it."

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The road blurred beneath her as the car whisked past trees and houses, and finally, past familiarity.

"Helga! No peeking," said Arnold through a smirk. "You'll ruin the surprise."

"Fine, fine." Helga rolled her eyes and pushed the bandana back down her forehead. "There. I'm blind as a bat. _Happy?_"

"Yup."

"So, what's with the forced blindness and secrecy? And come to think of it… how did you manage to set up a date… in advance?"

"Oh, Helga… I'm a man of mystery. You know that, right?"

"_T-heh_. Oh _brother._" Helga crossed her arms, shaking her head.

"It's somewhere I just happened to come across before coming home. You'll see."

With that, Arnold flicked on the radio, effectively ending the conversation as music flooded the vehicle.

'_She's got a smile that it seems to me  
Reminds me of childhood memories  
Where everything  
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky  
Now and then when I see her face  
She takes me away to that special place  
And if I'd stare too long  
I'd probably break down and cry_

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After just over two hours of driving, the car came to a stop. Arnold got out first, opening the passenger's side door for Helga.

The world was strangely quiet and there was gravel underfoot. Arnold was behind Helga, gently leading her along. At one point, he shoved her head down and pushed her forward sharply. Something metal and jagged tore at Helga's arm.

"Mn!"

"Sorry," muttered the boy. And he continued on.

Finally, there was a recognizable sound—water.

"Okay. Take off the blindfold."

Helga pulled the bandana off and found herself at the edge of an old sidewalk, which led dead-on into a lake. Water lapped up against the cement. She rolled her shoulders back and glanced over to Arnold.

"Now… turn around," he said, nodding reassuringly.

And she did. High in the treetops, leaves, silver in the sunlight, shivered with a passing breeze. And below that, nearly lost in a tangle of trees and bushes, stood the remains of a ferris wheel.

"What… Where are we?" whispered Helga.

"Lullaby Lake Amusement Park. My dad used to come here with Grandpa, but it was closed down twenty-some years ago."

This was strange, to say the least, being taken to some defunct amusement park by a "long-lost" love. "So it's not just somewhere you 'came across'?"

"No… I've never actually been in here… I just wondered about it, I guess." He turned to face Helga, staring straight into her eyes. No, staring wasn't quite the right word. He was _searching_ for something.

"Hey-hey-hey! You're weirding me out here!" Helga reeled back, gasping as her foot hit water. "Eu-ugh!"

Arnold laughed good-naturedly, holding out his hand in an apologetic gesture. "I guess it's just weird being, you know, _not_ in the jungle. C'mon… Let's walk around and see what's left of the place."

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There were ticket booths and train tracks, partially hidden in the sand. Every so often, Arnold would stop to pick up a dusty admittance ticket, or to tell a story about a certain ride. And as they walked, Helga learned bits and pieces of Arnold's South American life, and why he was back. His parents were still there; they were busy, but they figured that he would be missing his hometown. Things were calm in the village and it was possible that they would all move back to Hillwood by the end of the year. But not yet; as he said, his parents still had loose ends to tie up.

And he had a cellphone, proof that he couldn't fade away again.

Helga came to a stop on a roller coaster's loading station. She peered out over the tracks. "Think that thing'd collapse if someone walked on it?"

Arnold shrugged and stepped forward, taking a step onto the coaster. He stomped down. "Seems stable." He walked off and gestured for Helga to start the 'journey'. "Ladies first."

"Of course… the lady has to be the first to step on the rotten board or the protruding nail," sneered Helga.

"Or the first to be caught should she trip."

Helga wrinkled up her nose in response. She could catch _herself_, thank you very much. However, Arnold _was_ being Arnold, and how many chances does a girl get to climb on a roller coaster, high above the ground? Not many. After a moment's consideration, she nodded and walked onto the tracks.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

They sat quietly on the coaster's turnaround, with the ground dizzyingly far beneath them. The sky had exploded into a vivid sunset, painting the park in warm golds and pinks. From atop the structure, Lullaby Lake could be seen, glowing placidly in the distance.

"Why didn't you ever write to me?" Arnold's question sent a chill straight through the otherwise warm atmosphere.

"I-I….I couldn't."

"You couldn't?" He sounded hurt. Oh dear god, he actually sounded hurt.

"I just couldn't, okay! I wrote them out and I couldn't!" With that, Helga's voice broke, shattering into tears as hugged Arnold tightly, hiding her face in his chest. "You disappeared! You didn't tell anyone! I called your grandparents… all your friends… none of them knew…" Once more, the fear that Arnold would simply cease to be overtook Helga and the sobs convulsed through her. "Why did you… you… You left me. You were everything that was hopeful and worthwhile in that stupid town and then, you were gone!" With that, Helga found herself unable to speak. The sound of her voice was too pathetic for her to tolerate.

Arnold laid a hand on her head, but said nothing. He stared straight ahead, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes

* * *

**Whoot! Hm… So why did I put them in an abandoned amusement park? Well, I couldn't think of anyplace better! Restaurants, regular parks—no, no, no! But I happened to visit a defunct amusement park a while back, and for some reason, the thought entered my mind that it would make an awesome place for a first date (I'm strange. I know! xD) Helga sure was in her head a lot in this chapter, huh? Hehe.**


	4. Peanut Butter and Cardboard

**WHOOT! Another chapter! I'm actually managing to update this thing more than once every few months. I'm actually taking this story a lot slower than I intended. It seems it'll be longer chapter-wise and shorter word-wise than I expected… But that evens out, doesn't it? xD This chapter is mainly silly filler-ness… Sorta. There's some Phoebe/Helga friendship stuff and family interaction. I'm still not entirely sure how to make Helga act around her "new" family. But, eh, I try. Heh. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 4: Peanut Butter And Cardboard**

* * *

Bob Pataki had been standing guard at the door for the past hour, and had pacing since 2:30 that afternoon. And when that door finally swung open, he pulled his daughter into a hug, and then pushed her back, holding her at arm's length, one hand on either shoulder. "Where on earth have you been, O…."

As though on cue, Miriam slipped out of the kitchen. "Ahem…" She coughed softly and whisked up the stairs. Chances were, she would be listening close by.

"What I mean is, we—your mother and I—would have appreciated a phone call… Helga…"

"It's not that late," Helga sighed. True, it wasn't especially late; it was roughly a quarter to nine, but Helga had to constantly remind herself that her parents were _trying_. And that meant she should _try_ to be more daughterly… and not laugh when she happened to catch her dad screaming at (or hugging) a fluffy toy poodle as part of his anger management routine.

"That's not what's important here. I would have liked to have known that you wouldn't be home." Bob scratched awkwardly at the side of his head. "We've been worrying, got it?"

"Yeah. Phone call. Got it!" She raised a fist in affirmation, nodded briskly and started up the stairs. "And sorry for making you worry, Dad. You too, Mom!" The last statement was spoken a step louder, to assure that Miriam would hear it.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

The night was spent scribbling away in a new pink book, filling its pages with fantasies and poems. In each and every word shone that undying, unfaltering love.

And when she finally gave in to sleep, she dreamt of a church. Light flooded through ornate stained glass windows, and roses were placed appropriately throughout the chapel. He, in black, stood waiting for her, in white. Rows of pews were filled with spectators who sat in silent awe. But… they must have all been from Arnold's family. Scanning their faces—their reverent expressions—she couldn't help but notice that every single person shared Arnold's brilliant green eyes. And she wondered, a tad absently, if their children would inherit those eyes.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

It was early-afternoon when the doorbell rang—once, twice, thrice. Finally, whoever was on the other side gave up and jabbed a key into the lock.

Phoebe Heyerdahl pushed through the front door of the Pataki household. Through the years, she had practically become Helga's sister, so she was given a spare house key. Whenever the Pataki family was on vacation, she was left in charge of taking in mail, watering plants, and watching after the monitor lizard (the latter being a none too pleasant task, with the reptile exceeding six feet in length).

"Helga?" called the girl just barely louder than her speaking voice.

"Kitchen, Phoebs," responded Helga.

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

The situation Phoebe found Helga in was admittedly strange. The pigtailed blonde was on her hands and knees, a knife poised in one hand.

"H…Helga?" Phoebe began to take a step back. She had questioned the sanity of her friend before… Was it possible that the girl had finally broken?

"Shh!" Helga waved the knife, signaling for silence. From some indistinguishable point in the room came a chirp. Then another. And another, until the chirping was confidently consistent. Helga crawled along the floor, peering underneath the dishwasher. "Cricket," she whispered.

"A cricket?" Relief. Her friend was crazy, yes, but the victim of her wrath was both real and trivial. "Helga, I'm sure a cricket shouldn't cause you this level of distress. They're even considered lucky in some cultures."

"Yeah, well… I was trying to think, and there was this noise. This _cricket_ noise. Have you ever noticed that you can never actually _find_ a cricket in your house? You hear them… but, they're never there. I find that very suspicious, don't you?"

"Of course, Helga… Very suspicious indeed." Phoebe hid her smirk behind a slender hand.

The blonde got to her feet and tossed the knife into the sink. "You win this round, cricket. But the war is not yet over! Not by a long shot." She looked back to her friend and shrugged a shoulder.

"Since the cricket is… being cowardly… Perhaps we could talk?" Phoebe gestured to the living room before leaving the kitchen, with Helga close behind.

The two fell back on the couch in unison.

"I expect your parents are at their respective meetings?"

"Yup." Helga crossed her legs and flicked on the television, searching for something watchable.

"Well… Have you happened to speak with Sid lately?" Phoebe adjusted her glasses, an old nervous habit she had never quite been able to drop.

"Not since… oh, wow… it must have been freshman year." On the screen, a man in black stared nervously around a corner. "Why's that matter?"

"Well… the thing of it is… Arnold... Well…"

"Yeah! Arnold! Have you had a chance to talk to him? It's… well, Phoebs, it's honestly unbelievable. He just shows up in our lunchroom and POW!"

"Yes… unbelievable. Helga, Gerald hasn't spoken to Arnold at all. And he's been trying to get ahold of him. Would you happen to know of a way for Gerald to reach him?"

"Yeah… I have his cell number. I'll write it down for him before you leave." She paused. "Why doesn't Gerald just go to the boarding house?"

Phoebe continued to fiddle with her glasses. "I assume he was out at the time Gerald tried." She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and leaned back. Why was she even bringing this up? Sid couldn't be trusted, and she hadn't actually spoken to Gerald since his last attempt to reach Arnold. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its nervous quality. "_So,_ you two went out yesterday, _didn't you_?"

"It was so weird. He basically dragged me, _blindfolded_, to the middle of nowhere, and told me stories that his parents and grandparents had told him."

"The middle of nowhere?"

"It was an amusement park. L-something Lake… Lost, Limelight… I don't remember. I guess it was romantic, in a weird, lonely sort of way." Helga shrugged, looking back to the television. '_I didn't know! Please! Don't do this! We used to be so close,_" pleaded a voice from the TV.

Phoebe watched her friend closely. Despite the carelessness in Helga's voice, her eyes screamed a different story. In those eyes, there was hope… and relief. Several of their classmates had begun to fear that the jungle had eaten Arnold alive, even after his letters started to arrive. After all, letters were easy enough to fake, regardless of how personal they were. And throughout that first painful, Arnoldless year, Helga had held out hope. Phoebe believed that Helga's lack of response to the boy's letters, once they finally came, had not been out of fear, or even some strange form of revenge for abandoning her—no, Phoebe was certain that Helga had been avoiding the first hint that those words might have been written by a well-meaning Grandfather. But that didn't matter now. As strange as his return had been, bringing up Sid and Gerald had been a stupid thing to do. So, as any good friend would, Phoebe made certain that the subject stayed on this more positive route. "Come on…. There had to be more to it than that." She mimicked Helga's position and wrinkled up her nose.

"Nope. We were out in middle of nowhere, there were stories, and that's about it." She turned off the television with a groan. There was no way for her to follow the movie anyway. "But his parents should be moving out soon, and he'll stay."

"I'm glad." Phoebe put a hand to her heart. "Little Helga can finally have her love! The tragic tale has finally ended and the lovers can have their happily-ever-after, filled with sappy music and floating hearts! And don't think that there won't be floating hearts, Helga. There most certainly will… And ducks, as long as you're near a body of water, that is. Otherwise, it will be doves…"

Helga smacked herself in the face, peering between her fingers as her friend gestured wildly, still ranting. "Okay. Enough of that. I'm gonna call for pizza."

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

Half an hour later, the girls were at the kitchen table, with a large pizza between them. Phoebe was spreading a glob of peanut butter over one slice. Upon noticing that Helga had stopped eating and was staring wide-eyed at her, Phoebe took a bite of the peanut butter-slathered pizza, silently confirming that it was, indeed, good.

"Phoebe Mae Heyerdahl…. Did you just put _peanut butter_ on your pizza?" Helga raised her eyebrow, held out one hand, and shook her head in slow mock-disdain. "I… I'm sorry, but you have totally, completely, utterly, and fully ruined my appetite."

"Just try it."

"I would sooner eat my own foot. No… I would sooner eat _Harold's_ foot. And that's a big, smelly foot!"

Phoebe giggled, but bit down on her lip before full laughter could take over. It wasn't Harold's fault that his feet were large and … unpleasant to those who had a sense of smell. Well… it wasn't entirely his fault, anyway. "Come one! It's good! Honestly!"

"Nope."

"Helga! Peanut butter makes everything better! Think about it… Celery, which is basically water and cellulose, becomes bearable with peanut butter. Even fish sandwiches are delicious with peanut butter. And everyone loves peanut butter cups!"

"Nope… Wait… _Fish sandwiches?_"

Phoebe ignored the question. She didn't need to defend her decision to put peanut butter on everything she ate! And there would be no need to if Helga would just eat the pizza! "Why not?"

"I'd rather eat a foot."

"You said that! Just try a bite?"

"A foot, I say!"

Phoebe grabbed a slice of pizza, smeared peanut butter over it, and set it in front of Helga. She then put on her very best sad face.

"_Fine_. If it'll make you shut up, I'll eat it." Helga held the slice under her nose, and sniffed it suspiciously. She tore off a small corner and popped it quickly into her mouth. Chewing slowly, the blond rolled her eyes, swallowed, and sighed. "Okay. You're right. It's good."

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

Helga spent the following morning watching wrestling with her father, and the afternoon walking through the park with him. It was the demand of the uber-hippies for Bob to balance out his emotions, and the activities that resulted in those emotions. And while it was unlikely he would ever admit to it, it would seem that Robert Pataki did indeed find the park relaxing.

"Hey, gi—Helga… Let's go feed the ducks or something," Bob grumbled, staring towards the hill where ducks and geese had gathered.

"Ducks…" Helga glanced over to the birds and shuddered. She and birds never quite gotten along. But, of course, her vow to be more daughterly still stood intact. "How about…" She scanned the park and finally pointed to a pond where the annual toy boat races were being held. "Aha! A boat race!"

"We don't have a boat."

"No problem-o." She stared along the ground until her eyes landed upon a small discarded cardboard box. She quickly picked it up and beamed at her father. "_Voila!_ Our boat!"

"Helga, that's a dirty old box." He stared down at her daughter, and by the expression on his face, he was probably wondering just how much he had damaged the girl's mind.

"No, no, no… You've _got_ to look on the bright side sometimes." Despite the sarcasm in her voice, the words gave her a _déjà vu _sort of feeling.

Bob shrugged and the two hurried over to the pond to sign up for the next race.

The woman with the sign-up sheet gave the father and daughter a confused look when they showed up with their cardboard boat-box. But she couldn't deny entry based on poor craftsmanship of the vessel.

Once registered, Helga sat at the pond's edge, holding the box above the water.The sign-up woman's voice echoed from a megaphone:

"_Ready?_"

"_Set?"_

"_GO!"_

All boats were dropped into the pond, and most took off with as close to lightning speed as slow-moving toys could manage. The Pataki boat-box bobbed pathetically in place. "GO, GO, GO!" screamed Helga, cheering wildly (and perhaps a bit stupidly). The boat-box continued its complete lack of forward motion. "YES!"

Bob Pataki stared on, transfixed. What on God's green earth had gotten into his youngest daughter? He was glad to see her enjoying herself, but this was ludicrous. And why was a Pataki backing an obviously losing boat? And why was a Pataki's boat losing? It seemed that that wasn't important at the moment. The scene wouldn't be nearly so pathetically hilarious had they been winning… or even moving.

Bob kneeled down next to his daughter and plucked the boat-box from the pond. He tossed it towards the other boats.

"You can't do that, sir," said the sign-up woman in a rather careless tone. "You're disqualified." She sighed.

"Yuh-huh," Bob responded. The box landed on its side, slightly ahead of the other boats and began collecting water. A boat with a considerable lead on the others rammed right into the small box and kept right on going. The child who held its remote control glared spitefully at the Patakis.

And nearly five minutes of insanely slow boat-watching later, the craft was the first to cross the finish line, pushing the boat-box along with it. "YES!" shouted Helga and Bob in unison. They threw their arms in the air and broke down laughing.

"Actually, I believe you guys were disqualified," stated the sign-up woman curtly. "_And the winner is Super-Speed, under the control of Yancy Clemments," _she said into the megaphone.

The two ignored the announcement and continued laughing. "Stupid box actually WON," boomed Bob.

"There's no defeating us!" Helga slapped her knees and hid her face in her palms. "We are freaking invincible!"

x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

That night, Helga dreamed again. The closet door was open and feral sounds came from within. It wasn't a dream she would remember come morning, but the feeling was one that would stick uncomfortably in the back of her mind, telling her that she really _ought _to remember, that it truly was important

And when she did wake, an hour before her alarm went off, she was in a delusional panic. Or at least, she'd tell herself as much. Because, after all, people who are _not_ trapped in a dream-induced terror don't typically see a small light hovering inches from their face that shoots off through the closed closet door.


	5. Lessons in Logic

**That took a good bit longer than I would have liked, but I've been busy with school and whatnot, and have been feeling pretty uncreative to top it all off. Oh well. I hope this lack of creativity hasn't completely destroyed my writing. xD I guess we'll see! And to all my readers, !Much Love!, as always. **

**Chapter Five: Lessons in Logic**

* * *

Helga stood, unmoving before the closet. She couldn't bring herself to go through the simple motion that was opening the door. The longer she stood, the quicker her breaths became. She leaned forward, fingers ready to grab for the doorknob. But she flinched back, hand falling limp to her side. No… No, no, a thousand times no!

It was a closet, and nothing more…

Still, a poignant thought struck her: What would she find should she open that door? It was an interesting thing to ponder, really.

But today, she would wear something from her dresser drawer.

_**X-o-X**_

Miriam stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a hand on her hip. "I made breakfast," she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"No time." Helga grabbed her books and purse from the bookshelf by the staircase. "It's late."

"I know, I know." The woman's face softened and she held out a hand, offering her daughter a granola bar.

Helga shifted her weight from foot to foot, as though considering if she had time enough to even turn around and grab the granola bar. Miriam, realizing the girl's conundrum (and a conundrum it most certainly was), clapped her hands together to catch Helga's attention, and tossed the bar across the room. "Hurry up and get outta here," she said through a smile.

But Helga didn't leave right away; instead, she continued to shift uneasily from foot to foot. "Hey, mom," she asked tinily, "Do you think you could move some of my clothes out of the closet, into the dresser?"

Without waiting for a reply, Helga shot through the front door, only to collide with something just outside the doorway. Books and papers scattered on the stoop as Helga lost her balance, taking whatever she had run into down with her.

Once her mind regained functionality, Helga realized that she gripping handfuls of a pale blue shirt. A warm mixture of relief and adoration washed over her and she laughed, pushing herself off of the dazed boy. "Keeping up with tradition, are we Footballhead?"

Arnold got to his feet, suddenly standing very still. He was staring above Helga's eyes as she gathered her books, and looked almost disappointed. But it was a very short moment, barely one that would register for either of the two. When that moment passed, Arnold's expression brightened and he shoved Helga's shoulder playfully. "C'mon… We're going to be late!" He grabbed her wrist and took off in a mad dash towards the high school. Before Helga was forced after him, she caught a glimpse of the eastern sky, where the sun had risen in a deep shade of red.

_**X-o-X**_

All throughout first period English class, strange looks were thrown Helga's way; even Phoebe's eyes were laced with that odd pity. As Mrs. Tullens lectured on about the proper way to prepare a persuasive essay, her eyes continually fell on Helga, quickly flicking off to the rest of the class once noticed.

It wasn't until the end of the period, when Mrs. Tullens led Helga into the hallway, that she learned just what the reason for the stares was.

"I apologize if I embarrassed you last Friday," the teacher stated with a hint of concern.

Helga met the woman with a blank stare. Why was she bringing this up now? "It's okay, really, it's just a silly sentimental thing, you know… like… a baby blanket or…" She rubbed uncomfortably at the back of her neck and turned towards the classroom door, ready to head back inside. Standing in the near-empty hall with an apologetic teacher was simply too awkward for the girl. Helga had never figured Mrs. Tullens would be capable of an apology.

"You know, if the bow is important to you, you can wear it in some other form—perhaps as a bracelet or anklet… something along those lines."

Helga's forehead wrinkled in confusion. Why would she need to find 'some other form' to wear her bow as? Embarrassment would never keep her from wearing that ratty old thing; she had worn it each and every day since she first laid eyes on a very specific green-eyed boy. It ultimately contained every memory of love she had—the heart-lifting and the heart-wrenching—in its faded pink threads.

She ran her fingers through her hair, and then over her scalp, until she realized that she was searching frantically for something that wasn't there. The hat, the bow—she had forgotten both that morning. Maybe it really was just a symbol, maybe because of Arnold's return, she no longer needed it… but completely forgetting about that bow, a symbol as it very well was, was so terribly unlike her. "Oh… Of course," she managed, before numbly returning to the classroom.

_**X-o-X**_

The numbness followed Helga heavily throughout the day (and how ironic it was, that she could feel the weight of her lack of feeling). It wasn't the bow; no, her forgetting it was abnormal but there was something else. There was something that had cut deeper, a place with screeching and shadowy shapes, just on the tip of her memory.

Arnold had spoken cheerfully to her at lunch, passionately describing a place she recognized from his letters. But his words had melted within minutes, and although Helga strained to remain in the conversation, her attempts were all in vain. How could she focus on stories of temples that scraped the sky when there were fragments of some near-forgotten night-terror beating in her mind?

But the dream faded unimportantly once she entered the commons. Sidney K. Fitzroy marched down a long bench, eyeing the slowly growing crowd below him. Apparently, he had recently begun an impromptu speech. "…I'm glad he's back, I really am… but have any of you wondered what he's doing in the school? Hey, at first, I thought: 'Maybe he's visiting. Maybe he just wants to catch up!' But no!" Sid spread his arms out dramatically. "He's carrying around books like he's actually going to school here! It's May, people. This school isn't going to accept a transfer from the jungle in _May_. So, I did the logical thing and checked in the office, to see if, oh… I dunno… they even _knew_ he was here. Nope. No trace of him in any recent records. He's not shadowing, not signed in, not anything!" He began to pace up and down the length of the bench again. "OK, whatever. He snuck in. No big deal, right?" He found Arnold in the crowd and caught his gaze. "Still, Arnold, buddy, I have to wonder… Why the books? No one's seen you in class."

The crowd stood transfixed. Any previous murmurs and laughter had died away. Sid had always been the paranoid sort, but this was over the line, even for him. The bell rang, signaling their tardiness to the next class. No one moved.

"Well, anyway, just yesterday, before I even started putting two and two together, I thought I'd pay old Arnold a visit. You know, I haven't seen the guy in ages after all, so I stopped by the boarding house. His grandma opened the door, and I asked her if Arnold was home. '_No_', she said. '_Agapito is still saving the jungle from the blitzkrieg_', she said! Well, you know what? This whole thing looks pretty suspicious to me! I don't think we're getting the whole picture here."

"You know how my grandma is," Arnold said calmly during a break in Sid's rave. "She's always been a bit… eccentric."

All eyes turned to Arnold, awaiting further explanation. But a man in his late forties entered the scene, his unamused expression breaking the silent harshness of the commons. "Everyone, get to class," he barked loudly. "And Sid, you can just head down to the office."

_**X-o-X**_

Such things never phased Helga, and she shouldn't let words from someone she hadn't even seen in years get to her. But things had been off-kilter lately, and even though the feeling was probably just that, she found herself outside the Sunset Arms boarding house that evening.

"Okay, Helga… Just ring the bell and ask for Arnold," she muttered to herself. "You're his girlfriend… There's nothing wrong with paying him a visit." Even calling herself Arnold's girlfriend, only to the front door, stole away Helga's confidence. Ringing the bell and learning… whatever there was to learn, would be too much for her.

As Helga stoop by the door, contemplating all possible outcomes of ringing the doorbell, a daffodil fell from the sky and smacked against her head. Helga whisked the daffodil from the ground and tilted her chin back, half-expecting a downpour of sunny-yellow flowers. Instead, what she saw was Arnold, waving from the roof.

"Come on up," she shouted down to her, gesturing towards the fire escape. Helga, elated that she no longer had to ring that accursed bell, could just keep herself from skipping to the metal stairs.

Helga set foot on the roof and sighed. So many times, she had come to this spot alone, and just stared out over the neighborhood, wishing Arnold had been there beside her. "Coming to check up on me?" asked Arnold in a tone that was only half-joking,

"Been waiting for me?" Helga retorted.

"Touché."

Helga adjusted the flower behind into her hair and went to Arnold, sitting by his side. His hair was still shaggy, he still wore blue, and he was still inexplicably friendly and cheerful; he had hardly changed during his years of absence—maybe he was a bit more "grown up", but that was all. A sheet of paper in his hand caught Helga's attention. "What's that?" she asked, leaning against his shoulder.

Arnold blinked once and folded the paper into fourths, sliding it into his jeans pocket. "Nothing." He paused. "You came here because of Sid, right?"

"I—"

"It's okay, Helga. I'd be curious too. I carry those books around to make sure I'm ready for next year, when I move back here permanently with my parents. I don't want to be completely in the dark with my studies. And there are a lot of people I wouldn't see outside of school, so, like Sid said… I snuck in, but I don't go to most of the classes. I sat in on band Friday—that teacher didn't really seem to care that I was there. They're really good, actually." He curled an arm around Helga as a cool wind rushed across the rooftop.

"Oh…" She leaned into Arnold and closed her eyes, feeling weightless for the first time that day. "Things have just felt so _blehch_ lately, y'know?" she asked drowsily.

"Hmn?"

"Yeah. Bad dreams and it just… doesn't make sense. None of this." She snuggled in closer and sighed, giving in to sleep.

"Yeah. I know. But your dreams will get better," he whispered. "Everything will. I promise."

_**X-o-X**_

Sid took shallow breaths and tried to steady his hand, but he couldn't stop shaking.

"Go ahead. Write it," came a strangely patient voice.

Sid gulped. Something cold and metal pressed into the back of his neck, insisting that it would probably be best for him to do as he was told.

Boy howdy, yes. That would definitely be best.

* * *

**Well, everyone, how'd it go? Also, be patient with the next chapters. They're fairly new additions to this storyline (not in my original plan) and I'm mentally reordering this story (chapters that would have been later have to be sooner to make sense time-wise… Yeah) it it'll take some time for me to be happy with how everything looks in my mind before I can actually write it down. But as it looks right now, the next chapter will probably be some minor characters doing stuff and… stuff. (Don't you just love my descriptions/explanations?)**


	6. Conduit

**Notes: Another chapter completed! As I said, this is mainly minor characters… Or, at least, it's not mainly Helga… It's basically a transition chapter, since the focus won't be primarily on Helga for at least two chapters after this. So… the Hillwoodians are all contemplating the oncoming storm, along with more important things. Also, be sure to read the notes at the end for non-story related stuff that I find important!**

**Chapter Six: Conduit**

* * *

Arnold stared down the skylight, into his old bedroom. It was comforting feeling, seeing how well-kept it had been throughout his absence. The shelves and tables had been kept dusted, batteries were replaced where needed, and the room never _felt_ abandoned. It had been, however, been kept locked for those years. Only his grandmother, Gertrude, had a key, and made certain of the room's upkeep despite the nasty onset of arthritis. Of course, that she was still extremely mobile (and mostly sane) at ninety was a feat in and of itself.

Arnold smiled to himself, turning to face the cityscape. His neighborhood was still very much his neighborhood. Gerald Field was still a hotspot for local children with something to prove and, from what he had heard from those local children, fifth graders still wreaked havoc upon the fourth graders at P.S. 118. And cars still roared down the overpass above his home. Nothing had changed, and he enjoyed that he could come back and find that Hillwood was still home, at least in some respect. But as much as Hillwood was Home, he still loved the jungle and everything about it; he loved that it was a million miles away and that everything was alive and colorful; he loved that it was dangerous and beautiful and that he was so much closer to the sun. Helga, he mused, would love it there too.

He breathed in deeply, realizing just how thick the air felt. It would rain in a day or two… or less, or more. Who could tell? Not even the weatherman could foretell these things—he had predicted clear skies for the week, but those skies had already been gobbled up by gray. Watching the sky, finding no break in the clouds, Arnold found himself wishing he could lie out in the sun. At that moment, it was what he wanted most.

**x-O-x**

_What do you want most in life?_

It was a stupid, stupid question for a stupid, stupid essay, and Rhonda Wellington Lloyd could not, for the life of her, find the stupid, stupid answer. She twirled a pencil between her fingers and crossed her legs at the ankles. She didn't see the point to the question; there was nothing that she _really_ wanted, nothing that she couldn't acquire at the snap of a finger.

Up until the first grade, she had dreamt of being an Egyptian queen; she would rule the Nile with a diamond fist and an impeccable, deathly-intimidating beauty. She had wanted the glittering desert sands and the piles of gold within those colossal, pyramid-shaped houses. It had been her grandest fantasy, and she would often find herself slipping into it on slow summer afternoons. All through those young years, her dreams had been laced with rubies and wild, curving black eyeliner.

But, as children often are, she was forced to grow up. Reality was shoved down her throat once she entered grade school and voiced her aspirations to her teacher during recess. And that teacher, a blatant realist, was quick to explain a few things to the little Princess. Firstly, Egypt was no longer ruled in such a manner—it was a republic; those towering houses were not houses in the least—they were something more along the lines of grandiose gravestones; and even in those fairytale days of ancient Egypt, women rarely held the power that Rhonda was searching for. The talk, frank and matter-of-fact, had been soul-shattering for Rhonda. Of course, it came as little surprise that a week after a distressed Rhonda, bleary-eyed and sniveling, cried to her parents, the teacher lost her job

No dream had ever held the weight of that first one. Maybe it was silly, and maybe it was vain, but nothing had ever quite felt the same. She shared the fantasies of other girls—the perfect wedding and the beautiful home and the amazing job—but they were just fleeting thoughts for Rhonda. She wanted something _more_. She wanted all eyes to lock on her and to be immortalized in a way never before imagined. Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was a name that would survive for years to come, but at that moment, she hadn't the slightest idea how to bring this desire to realization.

With a wistful sigh, Rhonda dropped the pencil and walked, with a practiced grace, to an open window. A heavy breeze had found the room, reminding her that the skies were that atrocious gray shade outside. It was terrible, and there was something unsettling about it, as though the oncoming storm promised something far darker than her mind could ever stir together. She gathered her hair to one shoulder and ran her fingers through it, continually telling herself not to chew on her lip, that such was a habit for a lesser person.

**x-O-x**

Miriam chewed nervously at her lower lip, watching storm clouds gather outside her window. She direly missed those soft-pink clouds of the forever-ago that was actually just the week prior. "_So blue was the sky we dreamed upon,_" she sang softly, "_how could the day turn out so wrong? And leave me lost and lonely for yesterday? Oh… we've got tomorrow!_ …"

But, tomorrow wouldn't be much better weather-wise, would it? The storm was still miles and miles away. There hadn't been so much as a single thunder crack, not one drop of rain, and not even the sight of lightning in the distance. No, the worst was yet to come.

Miriam groaned, turning away from the window and such dreary thoughts. Dreary thoughts were for people who hadn't willingly tossed every trace of alcohol in the house, who hadn't been sober for three months. Dreary thoughts were things that had to be conquered, fought back until they returned to whatever dark, unreachable place whence they had come. She suddenly wished that there was someone in the kitchen with her, but her husband was at work and her daughter had stalked up to her bedroom after school, and hadn't come out since. Helga… the girl was beginning to worry Miriam. Her daughter had never been afraid of the dark, had always been brave, but she had suddenly developed an illogical fear of her own closet. Miriam, unquestioning, had moved her clothes into the drawers, and then checked through the closet. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just a few old toys, clothes, and boxes of poetry. When she had peeked into Helga room, half an hour ago, the blonde girl was sitting cross-legged in front of closet door. But… teenagers have their moods, where they just sit and mope, so Miriam chose to mind her own business this time.

She considered visiting Suzie Kokoshka, but she and her husband were probably at marriage counseling. And so, Miriam was left alone, battling dreary thoughts of the slowly approaching storm and how terrifying it was that a local boy had run away from home.

**x-O-x**

He hadn't run away. There were so many questions, questions that ripped Nadine's mind to shreds. But regardless of all those questions, one thing was certain—that boy had _not_ run away.

Going to his room that morning… it was something she would never forget. He typically drove her to school, but when he didn't show up in her driveway, or even call, a seed of worry planted itself firmly in her mind. Maybe it was something in the air, but she _knew _that a big bad had rolled into town and that It wasn't leaving without turning some heads and snapping some necks. Oh yes, something was going down, alright! And that something had ripped Sid right out of his house. It was Nadine who had found the note, written in such a scribbly manner that she hardly recognized it as Sid's. He had written that home life had become too unbearable, that it was time to get the hell outta that town, to put as much distance between him and that rat-trap as humanly possible, and whatever other cliché _I'm-a-troubled-teen _thing that could possibly be spewed onto a sheet of paper. But… no… that wasn't true. Sid _knew_ that he could always come stay with her; he knew that her parents had a soft spot for him and his quirkiness. And she knew that this rabbit hole went deeper than a cursory glance would suggest. Perhaps Sid did leave, but he didn't run away. So, with the insubstantial knowledge that had found her, Nadine gathered a few of Sid's things and left, telling no one she had been there.

Sid always had his eccentricities. He had files of "conspiracies": things like why businesses were really shutting down, why the abandoned buildings were so heavily patrolled by local cops (who he claimed were neither local nor cops), of aliens that occasionally took that place of Hillwood's residents, so on and so forth. The list was endless. But the file that had taken over most of his attention had the one on Arnold William Gavin Mann. His curiosity had been sparked when, a year after Arnold left for San Lorenzo, he received a strangely cavalier letter from the long-gone friend. But, after conversing with others who had gotten similar letters, the consensus was that Arnold's grandfather had written the letters in an attempt to keep hope up. But the letters kept coming, even after Phillip Mann had been diagnosed with pneumonia and sent to a hospital, then to a nursing home. Sid had managed to keep his conspiratorial mind under control… until Arnold had showed up in Hillwood.

Sid had seen Arnold a full two months before he had shown up in Hillwood High's cafeteria that sunny day a week or so ago. He had caught sight of Arnold near the docks and had followed him to an abandoned home, only to find the building to be empty. Of course, he barely made it past the foyer before a patrolman had kicked him out. He had told Nadine, and Nadine alone, and as much as she hated to admit it, the news had rattled her.

Nadine fingered through the files she had collected from the Fitzroy house, pausing on one labeled _Mann, A. W. G._. With a very audible click, Nadine finally understood—Arnold was to blame.

**x-O-x**

"Arnold, my beloved," Helga gasped, eyes locked on the closed closet door. "Why… Why are we still here? Why can't we just… go? It's so… cloudy here. The air is so heavy, I can barely breathe. It's never going to rain and the air is just going to get heavier and heavier until it crushes us all. I love you, regardless of—of…" Her voice broke. No... she could never accuse him of... anything. He was perfect.

" Arnold, I know you can take me away from here, to somewhere I can feel the sun, somewhere I can rest. That place, it's so close, but I'm afraid I won't be able to leave with you, that I'll miss the plane. Please… Can we leave now? Can we go?"

There was a sound behind that door, something quiet and stealthy and not-quite-ready to let itself be known. Oh, yes, there was something there; she could hear it shuffling and murmuring. She could hear it, far away but dangerous all the same.

Her eyes grew wider at the realization that she was speaking, and that her thoughts had fallen to such strange places. "Helga! Snap out of it!" she hissed to herself. "You're talking to a door. A _door_." She got to her feet and rolled her eyes, finding a seat by her desk. "Yeesh, you're going to drive yourself nuts if you stay in here much longer… But, no use going outside, with your—I need to stop talking in the third person! With _MY_ luck, the storm will start and I'll end up electrocuted. Nope, it's probably best if I just stay right where I am." She glanced to the closet door and chuckled. "This weather must really be getting to me."

She paused. "I feel like I should be somewhere…"

**x-O-x**

Phoebe flipped through the pages of her pre-calculus book. Where was Helga? Her best friend had promised to help her study after school, and Helga was never one to flake on plans, even just study-plans. She held her chin in her palm and sighed. The numbers looked so far away, and her room felt so dark, even with every light turned on. Normally, sunlight would be pouring over the table by this point, but a few stubborn clouds had to get in the way.

If only Helga would keep her promises… It wasn't that the blonde was smarter than she, or that she understood the material better; it was simply that Helga made studying easier. She was a creative person, and could find creative ways to make the material click and become understandable.

Phoebe got to her feet and stood on her toes, stretching her small body out as far as it would go. If the numbers refused to make sense, there was no use in staring vacantly at the math book; it was a complete waste of time. A stray thought found her: Had Gerald ever gotten in touch with Arnold? Even she had only seen him a couple times at school, and she had yet to really speak with him. It was a little strange, but the boy was probably just busy juggling two worlds. He would find time for everything eventually.

**x-O-x**

Gerald punched in the number his once-girlfriend had given him. He wanted to talk to his best friend, but doing such was proving to be an impossible task. Hillwood was just over an hour away, and he had made one trip out, but to no avail.

The boarding house had been empty; its occupants had probably been visiting one of its owners, Phillip Mann, at a nursing home. After driving around town and visiting with a few old friends, Gerald drove home. Phoebe had finally called him with Arnold's cell phone number, adding that she had definitely seen him, and that he was definitely okay, and that he was dating Helga.

The phone rang…

**x-O-x**

Arnold was pulled out of orbit by a vibration in his pocket. He blinked once, taking in his surroundings for an instant before whisking the phone from his pocket. He opened the flip-phone, then paused, and checked the caller I.D.

Gerald…

Arnold snapped the phone shut and allowed his gaze to wander back to the sky.

* * *

**Notes: OK, first, the next chapter… It'll be more of Arnold and maybe a character or two from this chapter. Also, be sure to check out the NEW X-FILES MOVIE. It comes out in theaters July 25, 2008 in the USA, and for those of you outside the US, you'd have to check. I grew up watching the show (and it scared the fuzznuts outta me!) and am so glad to see it out of hiatus! **

**Also June 8 – 9 is HEY ARNOLD SPAM DAY!! Check out my homepage for more details, and please participate. Basically, we shall spam the Nick officials, telling them we want TJM / The Patakis / at LEAST DVDs. **


	7. Heat Lightning

**Notes: Hm… I feel like these chapters should be longer… But they won't be. xD Well, some might be, but we'll have to see about that. I'm sorta fond of smaller chapters, anyway. I'm a person who loses patience/interest quickly. Anyway… Lessee…In Nadine's bit, one part is in parentheses because… she basically didn't remember it. You'll see what I mean in a second. Heh. **

**Chapter Seven: Heat Lightning**

* * *

Nadine stepped past broken glass and checked the address on side of a building that was in the early stages of deterioration. Yes, it was the same house mentioned in Sid's file, the one in which Arnold had "disappeared".

The door had been boarded over since then.

She hoisted herself through a glassless window, falling a moment later to the dirty wooden floor. "Ugh…." There was nothing there; the house had been ripped of all furniture. She sat quietly, but was not hit with any sudden bolt of inspiration, as expected. Sid was not here, Arnold wasn't lurking in the shadows, and the house smelled terrible. Regardless, she wandered through what few rooms there were, searching for… _something_ that probably wasn't there. _Something_ was missing, _something_ was off, and _something_ was certainly stirring in Hillwood, but she began to wonder why she was digging for _something _in a musty old house. There were only rats and….

(As a floorboard creaked underfoot, the world went green, and in that instant, Nadine found that she couldn't breathe.)

…mice skittering across the floorboards. And on top of that, the rats and mice were the only living creatures to be seen. Sure, such thoughts weren't quite appropriate when her boyfriend was missing and an epic-evil was burning, but if she had at least been able to study the habits of one of the many woodboring beetles that undoubtedly lived here, her time would have been well-spent.

She had heard one beetle, _Xestobium rufovillosum, _a common enough fellow in old homes, calling for a mate with a soft clock-like ticking; but searching for an insect via sound always proved impossible, so she let it be, and made her exit.

Back outside, Nadine brushed off her pants and waved casually to a rent-a-cop who was busy patrolling the area, as rent-a-cops often were. At least, she thought to herself, she knew people who would be better equipped at finding whatever answers need be found.

**X-o-X**

Across the river, miles away, in a town that couldn't quite be seen from the pier, lightning flashed.

Rhonda leaned back against a pillar and sighed. "How long would you say it will take to storm here?"

"Not for a while."

"That's _not _what I asked, Arnold. Don't you have any jungle-esque storm-predicting senses now or anything?"

"Not really. I think you can count the seconds between lightning and thunder and, then… something." Arnold shrugged a shoulder and tossed a pebble into the river.

Rhonda crinkled up her nose. "How am I supposed to do that if I don't hear any thunder?" She shrugged to herself and switched the subject before he could answer. "So, we haven't really gotten to talk yet. Tell me an amazing story about your years in South America."

"I wrote you with all my 'amazing stories'. It's really nice there, and I'm learning a lot about medicine, but it's not like we're constantly under the attack of treasure-hunting river-pirates or anything."

Rhonda pulled forward and grinned. "You were once, right? Scruffy guys, with wild eyes and gingivitis?"

"Well… they came into our village, stole a bunch of food, and ran off." Arnold smirked. "One of them tripped getting on his raft. He dropped everything and fell in the river. Didn't see what happened to him after that."

"And I assume there was a waterfall from which no living being could survive. Right?"

Arnold smiled his best mock-evil smile and made a fly-hands gesture. "Naturally, my pretty, naturally."

"What was _that_ supposed to be? An evil-genius witch or something? You looked like a complete and utter fool, Arnold."

"That bad, huh?" He glanced across the river, watching another lightning-bolt strike in the distance. A small wooden motorboat drifted down the river, and its passenger, a man in his late twenties with curly black hair, waved ecstatically towards the pier. Arnold noticed Rhonda wave back. "Who was that?" he asked.

"That's Sheena's cousin, Jack. He took over the little fishing business that Earl ran."

Arnold nodded. That name brought back memories: going in search of some fantastic treasure, hoping to change the world-view of a crabby old author, and generally having ridiculous adventures.

But he was snapped out of the memory-train by the return of the one little concern that had been nagging him for most of the day. "You were at school today, right? Did you see Helga? I mean… how is she?"

Rhonda brushed her bangs back and shrugged. She stared thoughtfully at her fingernails as she spoke. "Well, I saw her at lunch. She didn't eat, or anything. I'm guessing she's sick or something along those lines. You worry too much Arnold." She looked up, a smile slowly creeping over her strawberry lips. "So, tell me, when did you realize that you loved her? I mean, she just ran up and kissed you and that was it? If so, you're pretty easy." Her smile grew to a grin of Cheshire Cat proportions.

"No! It was nothing like that! I mean! … it was! …I just! …." Arnold took a deep breath, waiting for his mind to catch up with his mouth. "I think it was one her letters. It was like, I thought of our lives together and that's exactly what we always were—together…and I suddenly wished she was with me. Is that corny?"

"A little. But, Arnold, you wrote me that you never received any letters from Helga. You said she was 'the only person who never wrote' and that that you were 'quite bereaved' and so on and so forth." Rhonda crossed her arms and nudged Arnold's leg with the tip of her shoe.

"No, she didn't write, and I was bereaved, that you very much. Apparently, she _wrote_ the letters, but she never sent them. _Phoebe_ made copies of all of them and sent them to me."

"Okay, Mr. _Easy_ Loophole. Vain and ditzy little me will buy your story."

"It's not a story…. Easy Loophole?"

"Yes. That's you."

Thunder boomed overhead, loud and earth-shaking. "There's the thunder!" gasped Rhonda. "So, Jungle Boy, how far away is the storm?"

Arnold smacked himself in the face and laughed.

**X-o-X**

_They sat on a patchwork quilt, the sunlight beaming down on them. A stream gurgled past serenely and a pair of squirrels chased eachother through the treetops. "Wow, Arnold, it's like we've gone and moved to a postcard or something."_

"_What do you dream about, Helga?" Arnold held out a bright begonia._

_Helga frowned. "What do you mean? You know what I dream about. I dream about you." _

_He took her hands and placed the begonia in them, softly closing her fingers around the flower. His smile was sweet and thoughtful and dreamy, just as it always had been. "You're feeling alright then?"_

_(The stream wasn't a stream at all, but rather a waterfall, spilling diamonds over the rocks)_

"_Doi, Arnold-o!" she laughed. "Why wouldn't I be alright? Isn't this exactly what I always wanted?"_

_(And the sun was so close.)_

_Helga reached upward._

"_Yeah. So… no jetlag?"_

"_Jetlag?" Something was warm in her hands. "Arnold… we haven't left yet. Maybe we should…" _

_The spaces between her fingers… _

_they were glowing… _

_(She wondered if she had she had finally captured a star.)_

_and it _hurt_. _

_The begonia. _

"_Arnold…?"_

"_What did you do… to me?"_

**X-o-X**

She found herself on the floor, again in front of that closed closet door. "Criminey, what's wrong with me?" yawned Helga, woozily getting to her feet. "I feel like I got hit by monster-truck."

Her old pink bow was wrapped tightly between her fingers.

And as she pulled it free, she couldn't help but notice that the fabric was singed.

* * *

**Next chapter? Well, that will probably follow Nadine a bit more. I'm still contemplating how many chapters should focus on/include her. Rhonda will pop up a few more times, and of course, Helga falling into whatever sad little craziness she's gotten herself into. **


	8. Double Blind

**Holy fudge, how'd I end up with a completely Nadine-centric chapter? She wasn't intended to have any major role… at all. She was supposed to go shoe-shopping once with Rhonda, and that didn't even happen. xD Anyway, I'm pretty fond of this chapter, despite Helga being almost nowhere in it. I love detectivey things, if you haven't noticed. Nadine is one of those characters whose personalities can be played around with a bit, since she wasn't developed much in the show. Oh, and this is the same day as the previous chapter, but later in the afternoon! Anyhow… Enjoy! **

**Chapter Eight: Double Blind**

* * *

"No… He hasn't contacted me."

"I have no idea where he went, but he always liked Arizona."

"He got into trouble from time to time, but no… there was no one who would want to… hurt him. There was no reason for him to leave town."

Nadine had sat calmly at the kitchen table as an investigator questioned her. Her voice had trembled once or twice, but she tried her hardest to detach herself from the purpose behind the questions.

The investigator was gone within ten minutes, leaving Nadine to ponder the situation. "Maybe I'll get a letter from Sid in a year or so," she said with a nervous chuckle. But in all honesty, the possibility seemed very… well… possible. The thought added another stitch connecting Sid's disappearance to Arnold's appearance. Maybe there was some sort of circular pattern, or… or… Nadine leaned back against a wall, hands balling into fists. This wasn't her area of expertise. What did she know about mysteries and occurrences that were probably far from normal?

A knock at the door caused Nadine to jump shakily. Suddenly, she remembered just who should be on the other side of the door, and ran through the living room, flinging open the front door. "Rhonda!" she gasped. "Okay! Tell me… what… did Arnold… Was he, well…"

"Nadine, calm yourself! I'm not even in the house yet." Rhonda rested a hand on her friend's shoulder and walked inside, plopping down in a large armchair.

Nadine took a seat on the couch and began toying with her braids. "You can't tell me it's not strange, Rhonda. In fact, I believe you're one of the few people who have seen Arnold outside of school for long enough to carry on a conversation with him. Rhonda… that's not normal."

"Honestly, Nadine, what are you trying to tell me?"

"I'm saying it's pretty freaky that Arnold comes back and Sid goes missing, right after Sid became so suspicious of him."

"You sound so much like Sid, it's ridiculous! I think you've spent too much time with him anyway." She paused. "I mean, I'm certain he's fine and everything. He's one of those boys who would run off to 'find himself', you understand? I'll bet you'll hear from him any day now." Rhonda offered a quick smile and crossed her legs.

"No. Are you even listening to me? We're not playing games here! I'm worried about Sid. He had this whole file on Arnold. Don't you understand? Pages and pages—he followed the guy, looked up stuff on San Lorenzo, everything! And he even saw Arnold here, in some abandoned house, before he _supposedly_ arrived!"

"You can't blame Arnold for this… He was with his parents. And…"

"I'm not _blaming_ him for anything…" She sighed, arms sagging. Okay, that wasn't entirely true, but a lie speckled here and there never hurt anybody. "I'm just scared, and maybe Arnold knows something. Wasn't anything about him just a little… off?"

"Off? Well, was Arnold ever completely _on_? He's ridiculously optimistic."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," groaned Nadine.

"Okay, fine. I think he's been making a few things up, like he's telling only half-truths." Rhonda pursed her lips and sighed. "He's still Arnold, Nadine… He hasn't done anything, and I don't think his lies are meant to hurt anyone. Besides, do you think Sid was completely honest about everything he told you?"

Nadine sat in silence for the better part of a minute, until Rhonda opened her mouth to say something. "No." Nadine's reply was curt and certain.

"No?" Somehow, Rhonda hadn't expected that answer; Nadine had always been defensive of Sid. So… where did this come from?

"That right. He lied to me. When he followed Arnold into that house, Sid said he didn't see where Arnold went. That was a lie."

Rhonda uncrossed her legs, and the heel of her shoe hit the wooden floor with a firm clack. "Wh-what do you mean? What do you think he saw?"

Nadine's eyes fell to her shoes. "I don't know."

**X-o-X**

Nadine walked briskly down the street, thumbs curled around the beltloops of her jeans. She hadn't learned nearly enough from Rhonda. She had gotten her friend to divulge a few specifics—that Arnold had gotten ahold of letters which neither Helga nor Phoebe would ever send, that he generally avoided talking about his parents, and that he was vague about where he'd been staying—but none of the facts told her anything, or at least they didn't tell her nearly enough. She needed someone else if she was going to solve this mystery.

Nadine came to a stop and knocked at the door before her.

Thaddeus Gammelthorpe answered before the third knock, grinning in that odd way of his. "Hey, toots! What's the news?"

"Curly, I want you to tail someone for me."

Curly leaned against the doorframe and chuckled. "What's in it for me?"

"Rhonda's cell phone number, unlisted home phone number, and favorite hangouts." Nadine held out a slip of paper.

"Now, now now… I've been out of that game for eons now." That smile overtook him again. "Besides, I've already got all those. You're shoving checkers at a chess-player, dollface, and I suggest you take your pieces and skedaddle." He waved the slip of paper that just moments before had been in Nadine's hand and let it drop to the stoop, before slamming the door in the girl's face.

Nadine was left staring blankly at her hands, wondering just how she had missed that move. The option to beg Curly to help her tugged at her mind, but she ignored it. She had too much pride to lower herself to begging, and if Curly wouldn't help, well then… she would have to find Sid herself. After a brief moment of consideration, she decided on her next stop: The Pataki house.

**X-o-X**

The woman who opened the door wore lavender and spoke a way that was somehow both cheery and tired. This, Nadine surmised, was a woman who tried far too hard.

"She's not feeling very well today… Try back tomorrow." The lavender-wearing woman moved to close the door, but Nadine jumped forward, blocking the doorway.

"Wait! Please, Mrs. Pataki, I just really want to make sure she's okay… I saw her at school today, but didn't get a chance to talk to her. I'll be quick!"

"You went to elementary school with Helga, didn't you?" Mrs. Pataki put a finger to her lips in thought, then nodded. "Well, okay then, but do be brief." She then stepped back from the door, allowing Nadine to enter.

The girl slipped past Helga's mother and hurried up the stairway, mind rushing with questions she could ask of Helga, who was dating Arnold—Helga, who had mysteriously fallen ill. Wasn't it just too perfect? Weren't the pieces just falling into place so… well… perfectly?

The small hallway of the second floor was doused in an odd green light, emanating from a ceiling fixture. The yellow walls and vivid blue ceiling made the effect terrifyingly cartoonish, with that light reflecting off of several framed photos of an obviously successful (judging by the trophies) young blond woman.

There were three doors, two of which were shut. The third was cracked, but dark. Nadine peeked into the door, where pink was the prominent color, and quietly pulled the door open further. She moved as though to enter the room, but hesitated, remaining in the doorway. "Helga?" she whispered.

The girl in question had moved a chair in front of her closet, and was sitting with her feet propped against the door. "Helga…?"

Helga gasped at Nadine's voice and jerked backward, kicking off the door and effectively knocking herself over, chair and all. "Wha…? Who's there?"

"Nadine. Maybe you should… turn on a light or something? If you can't see, I mean…" A thought hit Nadine—maybe she should help the girl up… but she stayed where she was, between the green glow of the hall and the dark, hazy pink of the bedroom.

"No!" blurted Helga. "I… no… I have a terrible headache. It won't help." Every few seconds, the pink-clad girl would throw a brief glance towards the closet door. Helga wasn't typically one to sit on pins and needles—Nadine had never seen her fidget so.

Suddenly, Nadine felt terrible for coming up. What did she intend to do, interrogate the poor girl who had recently shared such a similar dilemma as Nadine herself?

"Have you seen Arnold lately?" she asked softly.

"Yeah! He was…" As though a realization quite disturbing just dawned on her, Helga's face fell. Her eyes were so wide, and her hands shook, but she set her chair back up, facing Nadine this time, and sat down, crossing her arms in an attempt to regain some of her regular composure. "I mean no. Not since Monday. What's it to you?"

"Nothing… But, why are you sitting there?"

Helga sneered coldly. "It's my room. I can sit wherever I please, thank you very much! What's with the third degree? Why are you here, anyway?" Despite the return of her foul attitude, she still stole those sideways glances at that door.

Nadine took a half-step backwards and grabbed the doorknob. "Oh… I was just wondering if you'd seen Arnold, since you two are dating and everything, I thought you might know where he is. I haven't had a chance to talk to him yet… haven't even seen him, really. Just wanted to catch up." She scratched at the side of her head and laughed a little too softly, a little too awkwardly. "I guess I shoulda tried the boarding house." Nadine slowly continued her backward movement. "Get better soon," she added quickly before shutting the door and racing out of the house. Something about the air in that room… it had been suffocatingly thick.

And it smelled like rain, more so than the pre-storm air outside.

And she could have sworn she had seen something under the closet door.

It was just a shadow… a shadow that was more than likely a trick of the mind…

But it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end all the same.

**X-o-X**

Nadine sat across from Gertrude Mann. It was the final leg of her day's journey; it had to be. She was getting nowhere fast, and the sun had set long ago.

Nadine laced her fingers together, staring out the nearby kitchen window. Lightning illuminated the heavy cloud a grayish orange. "So… weird weather we're having, huh? You'd think it would have rained by now. There's been lightning all day…"

"Why, yes, dearie," smiled Gertrude. "Bout time I batten down the hatches! Storm's a'comin' and we better make sure this ship's ship-shape." She wagged a finger and nodded knowingly. "The key, you see, is in the glue. The blue kind's mighty pretty, but it doesn't do a thing."

"Right… well, it must be so much easier for you having Arnold back. Where is he?" She couldn't help but think… the old woman's eyes were quite terrifying behind those glasses. They were owl-eyes. It was an absurd thought, really, because a nicer woman could not be found if one scoured the edges of the planet.

"Arnold, Arnold…. Isn't he the little blond boy who used to live here?"

"Yes, your grandson. Arnold. I'd like to speak with him, please."

"Why, yes, I believe I recall the young hero. But he's not here at the time. Oh, my no… He's got his plate full at the moment. We've got some ghosts in the attic, if you're interested?"

Every thought in Nadine's head—every worry for her lost love, every pang of anger (that she was beginning to feel was misdirected in the first place), and every whisper of fear—came to an immediate halt. This was the end of the road for her, wasn't it? Little neighborhoods had their secrets, and they kept them well. It was one of those clichés that somehow proved absurdly true. Whether people didn't know or didn't want to say, the neighborhood effectively closed up and swallowed whatever it hid under its tongue. "Oh… Well, maybe I'll see him at school tomorrow," muttered Nadine as she got up from the table and prepared to make her leave.

"Be sure to wear your reading glasses!" Gertrude shouted after her. "Eyestrain is such a hassle!"

**X-o-X**

In the attic of the Sunset Arms, Arnold pulled himself away from a floor vent and leaned back against the wall. Why did everything have to fall apart like this? True, only a few stitches had come undone, but the universe was a thing that tended to veer towards disorder. 'Neat and tidy' was something scoffed at in the grand scheme of things.

'The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry'.

So true. So very, very true.

Arnold closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, wishing very much that he knew the right thing to do.

**X-o-X**

On her trek home, Nadine had passed by one of the Sunset Arm's newer boarders, a person who had only lived there for five years—Jack O'Malley, Sheena's cousin. Nadine had casually asked if he had seen Arnold lately, and Jack nodded. He had seen Arnold, sitting on the docks with the pretty Latina girl, but he wasn't staying at the boarding house.

Tired and very much defeated, Nadine returned home, cheerfully ate dinner with her family, and trudged up to the comfort of her light blue bedroom—a place without owl-eye glasses, shadows caught in one's peripheral vision, or chess pieces. There was, however, a file on an old friend written by a very missing boyfriend.

She flicked through the papers, skimming over dates and times, references to places Arnold visited and things Arnold said. It was not, by far, the thickest of Sid's files, but that he had even put the effort into it…. Well, it made Nadine shudder. Sid had always been paranoid, superstitious, and more easily startled than he'd ever care to admit.

It was pure lunacy that Nadine was allowing herself to be sucked into this whole mess. What did she expect herself to do—walk the same path each day in hopes that she'd eventually stumble upon some answer… She didn't even know the question! No… the question was clearly '_Where is Sid?_', but how did that fit into the larger puzzle? Arnold wasn't back in Hillwood just to visit. His grandmother didn't act as though she'd seen him (though such could just have been her normal behavior), he didn't seem to be staying at the boarding house (although Rhonda had met him outside of it), and on top of that, Helga Pataki was acting strange—well, stranger.

And Nadine herself—she had reduced herself to a failing detective in only a matter of days! How strange, the things people would do for love.

Love.

That was it.

So many things that every person does are for the want of love, are they not? And perhaps Rhonda was right about at least one thing: perhaps Arnold's lies weren't meant to hurt anybody. The one person he had spent more than a day outside of school with was having a staring contest with her closet door, last Nadine saw.

Nadine's eyes welled with tears, because there no sense to be found in any of this. She had a million puzzle pieces, and she didn't even know what she was supposed to be forming. And even if she put every piece together perfectly, would it take too long? Would Sid's message be in that completed puzzle, or would she only find a cloudy sky?

Maybe she should be more aggressive in her search—not take no as an answer, and blaze her own path should she lose her way. But she was seventeen; she didn't need the position of Town Lunatic.

Could she talk to the police? Well… no. There was nothing to suggest that Sid was anything but a run-of-the-mill runaway. His note was written quickly, jerkily, but why would a soon-to-be runaway take his time? Besides, what would she say to the police to make them see things her way: that there was a mysterious football-headed boy who popped out of the jungle and was wreaking havoc on the town? And oh, yeah, by the way… he saved his neighborhood once when he was a kid, and everyone loves him, but ignore that—the kid is pure evil.

And somehow, some-indecipherable-way, he was responsible for Sid disappearing, or running away, or whatever it was Sid had done in order to not be where he belonged.

Yeah… that would fly.

Nadine rubbed at her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, taking time to clear her mind. These thoughts were giving her a massive headache, and counting the raised spots on her ceiling was just the thing to override the anxiety.

When she looked away from the ceiling, a that-wasn't-there-before sort of thing caught her attention. It was something on her window seat, and she had to do a double-take to even realize that it was, indeed there.

A piece of paper.

Inconspicuous and small.

But it hadn't been there that morning.

Nadine slowly padded to the window and stared down at the paper, at the messy, easily recognizable handwriting upon it.

_Elk's Island. _

_-- Sid_

Those simple words made her heart stop, then explode in those warm butterfly-fuzzies that instantly make everything okay again.

There wasn't much there, but it was so obviously Sid's writing that the lack of words was, well… fine. He had something to tell her, that much was evident.

The whats and whys could be worried about later. She knew where to go, that Sid was there, and that it would be best to leave _now_. It took every ounce of restraint she had to keep herself from flying out the door. Instead, she sat down at her computer and typed out a brief message to Rhonda:

_Important. Found Sid. Meet me at movies tomorrow. 3:30._

Yes, she would definitely have plenty to tell Rhonda the following afternoon.

But tonight was much more important. All the insanities, the trying to find something— somewhere, somehow… It would finally be done with.

She hit 'send' with a smile.

* * *

**M'kay… Next up? Some Rhonda-esque stuff, Arnold freaking out for various reasons, and mayhaps one of Helga's freaky lil' dreams. Dreams are always fun, and I just have to stick at least one more in somewhere. xD And there will be plenty of fun to come in later chapters—mythology and science fiction, some of my favorite things. **


	9. Sometime, Someplace

**Notes: Whoot! Dream-sequence! I just love writing them. xD The lyrics (non-italics) are from Everybody's Free (To Feel Good), the 'Aquagen featuring Razalla' version. Me no owny. And if you've never heard the song, it wouldn't hurt to listen to it (specifically that particular version), since it's playing in the dream and whatnots. It helps with the visualization, ((nods)). Anyhow, it's the following day… and I suppose it'd be Thursday. Mhm.**

**Chapter Nine: Sometime, Someplace**

* * *

_There was something sneaky about the music, the soft rain-like shaking in the background, and the way the multi-colored spotlights fell on each beat, one at a time. The first illuminated Helga, and each following landed on another person in the otherwise dark room. _

_She stood frozen, feeling terribly out of place in her old pink cotton dress, in the middle of a room of fishnets, glowing jewelry, and clothes that just barely covered what need be covered. And no one was dancing… Every person watched Helga expectantly._

'Brother and sister together we'll make it through'.

_They didn't seem impatient._

'Someday a spirit will lift you and take you there'.

_Or bored._

'I know you've been hurting but I've been there waitin' to be there for you'_._

_They were all just standing there, smiling._

'And I'll be there, just helpin' you out whenever I can. Ohohooo'_._

_And Arnold was in the crowd, wearing the same expectant expression as all the others, as the spotlight above Helga flashed through the spectrum. She called out to him. _

'Everybody's free to feel good. Everybody's free to feel good. Everybody's freeeee_!'_

_The lights around the others faded out, and as the voice soared, the spotlight over Helga expanded, then broke and scattered into pulsating strobe lights as a techno beat picked up. The crowd suddenly turned their attention from Helga, breaking into dance. _

_Arnold disappeared in the fray._

_And the lights flashed in time with the music, spinning and pulsing, faster and faster. _

'Everybody's freeeee_!'_

"_ARNOLD!" screamed Helga. Her voice didn't cause so much as a ripple in the excitement, even though just a moment before, she had been the center of interest. She pushed her way through, frantic in her search for Arnold, for the one glowing icon of familiarity in this flashy cesspool. And all the while, the music continued around her, threatening to drag her down into its rhythm. She didn't want to dance, or even to be here; the colors and the music were torturous for her headache._

'We all are a family that should stand together as one. Helping eachother instead of just wastin' time'_. _

_She saw him, laughing and dancing amongst the others. "Arnold!" She quickened her pace._

'Now is the moment to reach out for someone, it's all up to you.'

_With a gasping breath, Helga grabbed for Arnold, catching his wrist. "Please, what are we doing? No more cryptic messages, no more hidden meanings. Tell me what's happening here!"_

'When everyone's sharin' their hope, then love will come true. Ohoho!_'_

_Arnold pulled her into a hug—the tight, bone-breaking sort of hug that just screams 'I'll never let you go'. "You weren't lying then. I know you weren't," He stared down at her pleadingly. "This is for the best. For us."_

'Everybody's free to feel good. Everybody's free to feel good. Everybody's freeee!"

_Helga rested her hands against his chest, only to push away a moment later. "You're doing it again! I don't know what you mean! Everything's loud and weird and my head hurts and it's hot and I don't know what's happing!"_

_Arnold opened his mouth to say something, but as the lyrics faded and the music regained dominance, every person in the room turned._

_On each drum beat, they marched inward, toward Arnold and Helga. _

_Closer and closer, forming a tight wall with their bodies._

_Helga found herself separated from her beloved once again, as colorful, blinking necklaces were thrown over her head. _

_And, Helga noticed, every person held a small mirror over which the beating lights bounced. They waved their mirrors wildly, scattering the bright reflections._

_And their eyes were green._

_And they were covered in fireflies, _

_glowing the same color as their eyes._

_(Or was it just a lighting effect?)_

'Everybody's free to feel good!'

_On the last beat, they stopped, each and every mirror pointed at Helga._

**X-o-X**

Helga awoke with a start, staring into the dull glow of her digital alarm clock.

12:33 P.M.

The numbers didn't make sense at first, and Helga hit the alarm button.

5:30 A.M.

The time she was expected to wake up didn't look anything like the current time. And it struck her; she was beyond late. She had successfully slept through almost an entire day of school without so much as blinking an eyelash when the alarm went off.

At least she was in her bed this time, instead of curled up beside the closet. With a quick glance in the mirror…

(_Nothing out of the ordinary. Why should there be?_)

… Helga trekked downstairs in search of lunch. The pain in her head had subsided for the time, and she decided that it would probably be a good idea to scarf down some food while she could stomach it.

Robert Pataki was sitting at the kitchen table, leafing through the newspaper.

"Did I miss lunch?" asked Helga, who headed straight for the refrigerator.

"Yup. Your mom put leftover lasagna in the fridge for ya."

"Eureka!" Helga grabbed the container and a fork, sitting down across from her father. "Hey, where's mom, anyway?"

"Went out with that one woman… Kuhk... Kokakak….ak… Curly-haired woman with little pesk of a husband."

"Suzie?" She dug into the lasagna ravenously.

But, even if she felt better at the moment, that strange off-kilter sensation remained, deep in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps that feeling could be crushed into nonexistence if she ate enough cold lasagna…

"Hm. Yeah. That's her. Think she said they went to learn how to make salsa or something."

"Salsa… Right." Nevermind that Miriam never ate salsa, or cornchips, or anything of that persuasion; she definitely went to make salsa. "I thought she was taking dance lessons…"

"Yeah, well, she's making salsa today," replied Bob with a quick shrug.

Helga sighed. Maybe she had eaten too much lasagna, for all of a sudden, she felt extremely tired. "I'm going back to bed," she muttered.

**X-o-X**

Rhonda glanced from her e-mail to the displayed time in the corner of her computer screen. She had just under an hour until she was expected to meet Nadine at the movies. With a loud yawn, Rhonda reclined back in her chair. Poor Nadine had been taking the entire mess terribly. Come to think of it, she hadn't even been at school that day.

It was just… sad. Terribly, terribly sad. Hopefully one of those cheery movies (with a follow-the-straight-line plot, where the boy gets the girl and it ends with a kiss) would brighten things up.

But of course, Nadine's e-mail hadn't simply mentioned going to the movies, had it? No… Nadine had "found Sid", and there were things that would need to be discussed… like the lack of details in the e-mail, and just where she had been all day… why she hadn't called, or answered her cell phone when Rhonda had attempted to reach her. She hadn't attempted to call her home phone, but really… she didn't feel quite like bothering Nadine's parents.

But such nonsense could be bothered over later. Rhonda closed her e-mail and eyed her documents folder, where a very incomplete essay was kept, begging her to reveal just what it was that she wanted most in life. Of course, that fit in the category of "nonsense" much more so than Nadine's sudden eccentricities. Besides, it wasn't due for another week. She could always just ramble on about her desire to be happy, or borrow some ideas from her piano instructor.

Rhonda pushed the project from her mind and confronted a full-length mirror. She fingered her bangs into place and made a dramatic side-turn, noting the synchronized motion of her skirt and hair.

Perfect.

As always.

With a good forty-eight minutes left to kill, she hit the street.

**X-o-X**

"Rhonda! _Darling_," cooed a voice that even Rhonda had to admit was terribly… well… fake.

Rhonda turned away from the glass case—filled with glittering earrings, inlayed with diamonds and such—meeting the family behind her with a smile. "Victoria. It really _has_ been much to long. Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher, I do hope you'll visit us for brunch sometime soon." Fighting fake smiles with more of the same was terribly necessary when those concerned were friends (and clients) of her own family.

"Of course," beamed Mr. Gallgher. "We'll set something up with your parents post haste."

With a quick nod, Rhonda turned her attention back to Victoria. "What brings you here?" The doldrums of keeping up the small-talk were unavoidable. She couldn't simply leave or such; the conversation must be carried out in full, and she must suffer through it.

"Oh, mummy and daddy here were buying me jewelry for prom. Rhonda, tell me, do you fancy this piece?" She pointed in a counter to a necklace of large, overly extravagant cubic zirconium. "Diamonds are a staple, but they just don't have the same sparkle," she sighed.

Rhonda's smile faltered for a moment. The necklace was a little tacky, and would certainly overpower most any tasteful prom dress. But, of course, saying such would be rude. "It's lovely. Such a nice sparkle."

"Hm. Yes. Mummy? Daddy? I'd like that one!"

As the Gallaghers' purchase was wrapped up, Rhonda bought herself a pearl bracelet (because browsing can be just as rude as a misplaced comment), mentioned a prior commitment, and took her leave.

The streets were nearly deserted; perhaps the residents of Hillwood feared the oncoming storm, or, more precisely, the lightning that had been flashbulbing across the clouds. Noticing that her watch read 3:25, Rhonda picked up her pace, not wanting to keep her friend waiting

Rhonda stood outside the movie theater ten minutes later, standing uncomfortably under the entryway. She tried once more to call Nadine, to no avail. "Excuse me!" She walked up to the ticket window, making eye contact with the younger boy behind the glass. "Did a girl about my age come here? Dark skin, blonde hair, probably in blue or purple?"

The boy blinked once and shrugged. "Dun think so."

**X-o-X**

Arnold was making his way past the movie theater when clicking heels sounded behind him.

"Arnold!"

He stopped and turned upon hearing his name. The girl looked strange lonely, something that Rhonda Wellington Lloyd never was. Maybe it was just the atmosphere out there, or that any girl will look awkward standing alone.

"Arnold… Have you seen Nadine today? I tried to call her but she hasn't answered. She was supposed to meet me here."

"No sorry." Arnold moved as though to step back, but rethought the action and held his ground. "Maybe she's already gone inside."

Rhonda gave a half-smile. "I suppose. That's so very Nadine… She's never been the patient sort." A pause. "Hey! Wanna catch a movie with us? There's _got_ to be something playing in this dump!"

"I've got somewhere to be. Maybe some other time."

"Sometime, someplace," replied Rhonda with a nod.

And though Arnold felt almost guilty for leaving her there, he did have places to be, and things to check up on.

After Arnold was out of sight, Rhonda returned to the ticket window. "One ticket for _A Day's Distance, _please."

"That's sold out."

"_The Z-Files_?"

"Also sold out."

"Then what is playing?"

The boy checked the list of movies. "Just _Wonderworld._"

Rhonda groaned. She didn't need to see more computer-generated superheroes. But it was all that was available, and she could check the other rooms for Nadine. "Fine. I'll take a ticket."

But Nadine was nowhere to be found in any of the theater's rooms, and Rhonda reluctantly settled on watching the movie she paid for. The seats were all empty, save for two. And those two people seemed none too interested in the film; they were both fast asleep.

The room reeked of stale popcorn and a family of tights-wearing superheroes danced onscreen.

Fabulous.

**X-o-X**

Arnold was nearly to the docks when a rather unwelcome thought snuck into his head—one that he just couldn't shake away.

Nadine wasn't at her house, and hadn't been at school, and her parents were getting worried. They had consulted his grandmother about her whereabouts, but of course, she was little help. She had replied that Nadine had been there a 'thousand years or so ago'. They had probably contacted Rhonda's parents to, but if that were so, they obviously hadn't consulted their daughter about the issue; she seemed quite oblivious.

'_Have you seen Nadine today?'_

But it wasn't his fault. There was nothing he could do to stop this. He thought avoiding certain people would be for the best, but he hadn't anticipated the whole Sid Incident. The possibility hadn't even crossed his mind—Hillwood was safe. It wasn't like the jungle, and the jungle, with all its dangers, was a million miles away from Hillwood.

'_She was supposed to meet me here._'

Rhonda was one of the few people he had seen outside of class, but she was safe. All the same, what would someone have thought having seen them together on the pier?

Alone.

Close.

And laughing.

He pulled out his phone (and he couldn't help but wonder why he kept the thing; he rarely used it), punching in Rhonda's number. But she didn't answer.

Maybe she couldn't.

The thought was ice-cold and he could taste copper rising in his throat. Arnold turned on the spot and made a mad sprint back to the movie theater, fighting against the wind. Even the weather was against him. How convenient.

Several yards from the theater, he stopped. There was music, something inappropriately cheery, faint, and somewhat familiar. He had definitely heard it before, maybe once or twice.

Arnold reached down to pick up Rhonda's cherry-red cell phone as a raindrop splattered against the bridge of his nose.

* * *

**Gah! Not again, right? xD; Ah well… This chappie felt a tad slow to me, but we have to get from point A to point B and onward somehow, I suppose. Don't get me wrong, I do like this chapter (especially the dream. Lol). I guess it's 50/50. I had wanted to add a different scene for the end, but it'll be in the next chapter, probably. This just seemed all… endy. ((nodnods))**

**Anyhow… next time: Arnold has a few decisions to make and a few things to explain to a certain someone.**


	10. The Right Thing to Do

**And onward we go. When I first started this story, I was certain I'd be able to finish it in 10 chapters… Guess I was wrong. xD Anyway, the weird factor of my story increases in the chapter, and shall probably continue to increase. Of course, feel free to throw out your opinions! Much love! **

**Chapter 10: The Right Thing to Do**

_**The wild dogs cry out in the night**__**  
**__**As they grow restless longing for some solitary company**__**  
**__**I know that I must do what's right**__**  
**__**Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti**__**  
**__**I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become**_

**-- "**_**Africa**_**" by Toto**

* * *

He couldn't move, think, or shake that numb feeling that had started at his fingertips and spread down his arms until his throat eventually went dry and his breath became strained. Rhonda was gone. There were no coincidences here. Sid, Nadine, and Rhonda… the three were so closely connected; there was no denying it.

Those thick, nightmarish clouds crawled over the sky, throwing heavy raindrops across the city.

He had a heavier weight on his shoulders than he could ever carry. People were depending on him now, waiting for him to save the day with a smile and a wink. And Arnold knew that he had to step up and take responsibility, to do what was expected.

They were probably fine, alive and well—Rhonda, at the very least.

Rhonda's phone continued playing through the cheerful melody, on and on, and so terribly out of place, until Arnold tossed it into the street. It snapped easily and was silenced.

Yes, he had to be the superman here, but he couldn't do that, not this time, not for everyone, because Hillwood wasn't safe any longer, and wouldn't be with him in it.

**X-o-X**

The footsteps around her were heavy and sloshy, and the air was rank with the smell of stale water. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed to something that must have been the wall. Rhonda kept her eyes closed, hoping beyond hope that they would think she was still unconscious.

The footfalls neared, then stopped.

**X-o-X**

Arnold stepped on a very specific floorboard of an abandoned building, and the room flashed a vivid green, then melted, changing and swirling as an uncomfortable pressing sensation hit his chest. He closed his eyes.

Like swimming in deep water, running in the dark, or finally gaining the courage to confront the monsters under the bed—it was exhilarating, and in all honesty, more than a little scary.

When Arnold opened his eyes again, the walls had scrunched in closer. There was barely enough room to move, and boxes were piled high all throughout the tiny space. He cracked the door, eyes automatically locking on the girl in sweatpants, who had her hair in messy pigtails. She was sleeping soundly on an oriental rug, just beyond the closet door.

"Helga?" he whispered.

She continued to sleep.

"Helga!" Louder this time. Much louder.

Still nothing. He opened the door as quietly as possibly and walked slowly over to her. As he knelt on his hands and knees, he felt a soft staticy patch of air that hovered just above the rug.

She had her arms stretched out and he laid down near her, hands close to hers but not touching, because he wasn't quite certain he wanted her to wake up just yet, and because she wasn't supposed to be asleep outside the closet door. Or have nightmares. Or suddenly become a strange combination of listless and neurotic.

And he watched her chest, just to make sure she was breathing (and of course she was breathing; that's what sleeping people do—they breathe).

He spoke her name once more, just to make triple-certain she would, indeed, remain sleeping through all he had to tell her.

**X-o-X**

"This is getting ridiculous. You've already brought in two kids. What, do you _honestly_ think no one's going to notice?"

"They we nosy and suspicious… I didn't think it was a good idea for them to be poking around this business."

"So you chose to draw attention to ourselves with a third kidnapping? What is your _problem?_ These aren't demigods from Planet Krypton, they're a bunch of high school kids who have too much time on their hands and would have forgotten everything within a month. Besides, who would have believed them anyway?"

"Planet Krypton…? Do you have to make Marvel reference every ten seconds. Ugh… Okay, okay… Hear me out. This one wasn't taken without reason. I saw her with the one guy. All day, a couple days ago. They were pretty damn chummy."

"Then why didn't you just get him so we could run some tests and get out of here? Instead, we're being reduced to your run-of-the-mill kidnapping serial-killers! I know! Let's open up a daycare! How 'bout that? No, even better—we invite the whole fucking city to a _delightful_ little tea party! Wouldn't that just make your merry day?"

"You don't get it! I'll bet anything she's been affected."

Rhonda tried to keep her breathing steady the previous speaker's finger traced its way up her neck, resting on the soft bit of flesh under her chin.

"Now wake up and let's get a look at those pretty peepers."

**X-o-X**

"Helga, we can't stay here. You're going to get up, and we'll leave and everything will be fine, okay?" Arnold asked in a whisper-soft voice. He sighed shakily. "You know, when I first moved to San Lorenzo, the villagers would tell me stories. My favorite was one about wishes. It was common lore that fireflies were magical, and that the best time to make a wish was just after sunset, when the fireflies are low to the ground, when they were easier to catch and tell your wish to. And as the night goes on, the fireflies reach the point in the sky where you can barely tell them from the stars, and it's at this point that your wish undergoes judgment. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Helga remained ever-sleepy.

"No… of course not. I'm rambling. I'm glad I went to San Lorenzo. I had to find my parents; you understand that. And it's amazing there, and I love it, but I feel like… like I deserve to travel both paths, you know? We were so close in junior high—Arnold and Helga, best buddies—the end, but there could have been more. But I started having dreams about the jungle, where I'd be running through the trees, and there was chanting, and I _wanted_ to be there. Then Eduardo came up, and we left, and I was so excited; I was going into the great unknown to meet my parents."

**X-o-X**

As the two men cursed at eachother, apparently disappointed by something in her eyes, Rhonda got a chance to survey her surroundings. Ultimately, it looked like a sewer, or maybe an old subway line. The ceiling leaked terribly, and further down the tunnel, it sounded like water was pouring down heavily (though the tunnel was long enough to prevent any life-threatening flooding). There had been a subway route that went under the lake several years ago, but it had cost too much to keep up, and yes… there were tracks; it was definitely a subway tunnel. Aside from that, she was indeed chained to a wall, and there were wire-covered do-dads on tables and on the walls. And wasn't that just great; she was trapped in some mad-scientists underwater tunnel-lab-thing.

"You know, my parents are very rich," she shouted. "They'll pay anything for me!"

The two continued their blathering ('Blah, blah, mistake.' 'Blah, blah'.) and Rhonda found herself suddenly enraged that she was being ignored, and moreover, actually spoken over!

"They probably already have an amazing search team out for me! There'll be fifty men down here in no time, and you'll be lucky if you only end up in prison!"

"Maybe she just hasn't been affected yet," groaned Mr. Peepers..

"Then let's speed up the process," said Marvel Man.

And any pride or rage that had found Rhonda instantly fled her veins.

**X-o-X**

"I can't tell you everything, well… I can, I mean you're coming with me after all, but not until we leave. But that's why I did it, so you could leave with me, because you can't just reach that part of the jungle in a car, or on foot, but that doesn't matter. There will be no more smoggy summers, or below-freezing winters. And maybe it was wrong to read your letters to me, but they were to me, right? But I'm a good person, and I didn't mean for—…"

He paused, staring at the small gap between his hands and Helga's. "—for any of this to happen. I should be doing something for them, I know. But there's a police force, isn't there? They can do… something, can't they? A few people in the neighborhood have been helping with the search. And I wasn't even going to stay this long! I just wanted to talk to a couple people, just briefly, and get you. I had it all planned out. The Passages were set up where need be, ready to be erased after I was gone. But we went to the park, and your eyes were still the same; the Passage wouldn't have accepted you. So I stayed."

"And I'm sorry," he whispered. "So, so sorry."

**X-o-X**

The scream ricocheted off the grimy walls, down the length of the tunnel until it was lost under the rush of lake water through a break in the stone.

Something pinching and metal and been cupped around each of her fingertips and around her head through which electric current surged.

"Past tests show what percent efficiency of this method?" asked Marvel Man.

"Err…" Mr. Peepers scrambled through a stack of papers. "Fifteen."

Marvel Man met Rhonda's gaze and shone a penlight into her eyes. "Nothing. Next trial."

Marvel Man tapped a syringe. Under the dim lights, Rhonda could not distinguish the color of its contents. Maybe green, or yellow, though she hoped for a less sinister color.

She hoped for clear.

Or blue.

**X-o-X**

"But it's going to be okay. Whatever… discomfort you're going through, I can make it up to you. Tomorrow's our one week anniversary…" Somehow, the words felt strange. How much time had they even spent together? Not enough; definitely not enough. "…and we'll spend it, I don't know, wherever you want, okay? By the lagoon, or ontop of one of the ruins. Anywhere."

"Let's go," he said with a smooth smile, reaching for her hand. But there was a spark, literal and sharp, as Arnold's fingers approached hers. It was unpleasantly stronger than common static.

Helga flinched slightly, but otherwise remained unbothered.

Though the same could not be said for Arnold; he was very much bothered. Because Helga had been having nightmares, which wasn't normal. And she was sick, which wasn't normal. And the abnormal triangle was completed by that spark, and by the fact that the static around the rug had grown more noticeable.

As quietly and carefully as possible, Arnold crawled off of the rug, towards the closet.

No, it wasn't normal, and it wasn't right, and he really didn't need the extra burden of guilt… but he couldn't let something happen to Helga.

"I'll be back for you," he mouthed.

**X-o-X**

Several injections, electric shocks, and tubes that did god-knows-what later, Marvel Man began pacing. "You think that _maybe_ you got the wrong girl? Wouldn't you think that one of these trials would have had some effect? Any effect? Hmm?"

Mr. Peepers fidgeted uneasily.

"And what of her heroic little boyfriend? Don't you think he'd be wooshing to the rescue?"

Something clicked into place in Rhonda's mind and memories shot past in dizzying circles—words from Sid and Nadine, and that crazy file that boy had kept. She still didn't know what was going on, but one thing was clear as air.

She, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, had not a single thing to do with it.

They didn't want her, or her beauty, or her money, or whatever else she had that could be worth something to someone. They wanted Helga… and Arnold. While she hadn't the faintest idea how to find Arnold (other than the obvious answer: The Boarding House), she definitely knew where Helga was.

And what she had to do was obvious.

"He… would never give up looking for me," she spat. "He _will_ come."

* * *

...**Oh my… Poor Rhonda, choosing the moral high road. ((meeps)) The chapter title wouldn't make sense if she didn't. Seems these characters still have a wee bit of explaining to do. I planned to have Arnold tell us more this chapter, but it felt too long-winded, and unnatural. Hopefully Arnold's one-sided conversation didn't feel **_**too**_** unnatural. And yus, I implemented Hellerick Ferlibay's tea party comment into this. xD Also… don't question the names I chose for the "villains". I didn't feel like having them mention their names, and well, I just picked things they'd mentioned… obviously… Why can't they have funny names?**


	11. The Desperate Sort

**Bum-bum-buum! I'm really failing at picking out chapter titles, so I just searched the chapter for title-sounding words. xDThis will probably be my last update for a while… maybe. School's going to be starting up soon, so unless I have an extreme writing-mood, updates will be further between. Also, super-extra bonus points to anyone who can guess the famous quote the first bit of the chappie was (kind of) based on.**

**Chapter Eleven: The Desperate Sort**

* * *

...

Her fingers twitched, then closed, and the blatant _nothing_ around which they closed roused the girl from her sleep.

But what did she expect to hold? It was silly and foolish and a complete waste of time to ponder the question. What struck her instead was just how loud the wind was against the rooftop, and the harshness of the rain being pelted against her window. And just how dark it had become.

In the back of her mind, she felt reverted back to her childhood self. She wasn't more confident, stronger, happier, so on and so forth. She was tiny and it was storming outside and she had missed dinner (though a glance to her dresser would reveal a sandwich left by a concerned parent). Of course, the storm was so much more important than the lure of that sandwich, pastrami as it very well may have been. Stormy nights were important for her, and, of course, they were the best time to battle the monsters in the closet.

Yes, there were monsters there, of course there were, monsters with vivid green eyes and watermelon heads and bright smiles and—_NO!_ What was she thinking? Monsters don't smile, they grin, and their eyes may be green, but not _that_ kind of green, not the green that's warm and good, but rather a cold-light green.

If she were to just open the door, she'd see those eyes, whatever green they may be.

**o-X-o**

Arnold breathed deeply as the hardwood floors were replaced by the mossy ground of the San Lorenzo Peninsula. The air was thick and fragrant, and aside from the humming of insects, perfectly quiet. Of course, what should he expect? The capitol city was at the edge of the mainland, and the Green-Eyeds' village was a safe distance away (not to mention being a different subject in terms of distance entirely).

He took an uneasy step forward, staring at the shadows that spider-webbed across the forest floor. There was thunder in the distance. Perhaps the storm in Hillwood was racing after him.

What now? This whole thing was supposed to be easy. And no, it wasn't selfish, not in the least. Helga hadn't wanted to live in Hillwood, had she? No—a plain, simple, curt, and definite no. What's "right" is sometimes a layered dish and… it had honestly felt right. Some things are meant to be, even if it's necessary to blow up a few road blocks along the way.

His own transition had been nearly seamless. There had been dreams and general weirdness until Eduardo simply appeared, right on cue. But he hadn't taken transference, not really; his Eyes had been born-in, when his then-pregnant mother gazed upon _La Corazon_. But that shouldn't make any difference. There was no reason for Helga to be taking the effects to badly.

And those effects, they seemed so familiar. They brought to mind memories bright lights shining through closed medical tent.

**o-X-o**

Helga got to her feet and rubbed at the back of her neck. She didn't feel sick, but she didn't feel quite right either. The closet door called out to her with a low insectile hum.

That wasn't normal, was it, to feel such a need to be close to a certain area?

_Because being close to that area means being close to Arnold._

…which made even less sense.

And closets don't make _noises_. They don't hoot or screech, hum or buzz. They hold clothes (_and memories of shrines_), but little else.

But it was still strange—the sounds, the feelings, and the dreams. They had all started so conveniently after Arnold's return to the city. But he couldn't be held responsible for some absurd coincidence, could he?

She listened to the thrashing of rain against the window and rooftop, and to the unnatural sounds which came from the closet. They were very _jungly_ sounds.

Another coincidence?

Sure. Fine. Whatever.

Her boyfriend (_Boyfriend… Boy-friend… Arnold? When'd that happen? Five lifetimes ago, at least_) was suspicious and conniving, sweet and perfect. He came unannounced from some part of the world with miles of unexplored jungle, mysteries, and other very hush-hush things.

He went to school for a few days, and everything was supposed to be normal again. Or, perhaps, better than normal—like a dream.

**o-X-o**

He had to be the strong one, because he was always the strong one, and things like that can't just go and change. He had seen plenty, done plenty, and lived a life worthy of an animated television show.

But in the quickly darkening forest, he became chillingly aware of just how little he knew. Despite having spent the past few years in this life, and despite the deep involvement of his parents in the lives of the Green Eyed people, he was still shielded from so much.

Oh, he had to be the strong one, most certainly. He had to run blindly through the trees until fate would decide to throw some twist into his path and make everything alright again. Yes, he had to brave quicksand and snakes, and everything else the jungle hid.

**o-X-o**

But it wasn't a dream. She had barely seen her Arnold, barely spent any time with him. It was a desperate sort of insanity, to place so much gravity on a relationship that had barely started, even if it was one that had been fantasized and built up in childhood daydreams since her preschool years.

She reached for the door, ready to face whatever horrors awaited her just on the other side.

But she couldn't do it. It was frightening and somehow, a breach of trust.

Helga stepped back, defeated. Instead, she turned to her dresser drawers, sifting through them.

"Arnold," she muttered. "I don't know what's happening here, and I don't know why everything's just so… wrong, but you promised that you wouldn't leave me again, and that things would work out. And I believe you. I really do… Really. Maybe you understand, maybe you don't, but maybe I can fix this myself. I mean… Ugh, I can't even think straight! Maybe if I could just… think…"

**o-X-o**

Arnold walked down a non-path, through a tangle of monstrous roots, wishing for a guiding light, for anything that would give him direction.

The storm seemed to be headed for a different region. At least that was something to inspire to spark of hope.

A sound, high-pitched and frantic, called out above. And suddenly, Arnold found himself dive-bombed by something fuzzy, the size of a small dog. It clung to his shirt with claw-tipped, leathery wings.

"Ghale," he gasped laughingly, looking down. Despite the situation, he was glad for the familiarity of the bat. "How did you…." His voice faded away once he glanced up again.

A figure had appeared in front of him, streaked with those crazy shadows that the jungle so loved to throw.

And Arnold found himself frozen before those bright green eyes.

* * *

...

**Dun-dun-duun. This chap. was a shorty, but hopefully decent. Next time, we've got some more stuff to reveal, and still further Helga freak-outs. **


	12. Catalyst

**Bum-dee-bum… Let's see… Do I have anything to say before we start? I like the chapter title. A lot. Sure, it's only one word, and one word doesn't take a lot of creativity, but I like it. I was sitting in chemistry class one day (last year xD), writing down notes, and thought to myself: **_**I like that word. It would make a good chapter title.**_** And it works. Also TTF is That Tingly Feeling, if you didn't guess. Obviously my story "parts" are only connected by a similar event… or something like that. You'll see. And there will be a "Part three". **

**Also, this chapter is the first I thought up. The entire story was born from this chapter. I have no idea how. xD Lastly, there are some time zone differences in this story—it's probably about three or so hours later where Arnold is than it is in Hillwood (depending on where you stick my fictional version of San Lorenzo). **

**Chapter Twelve: Catalyst **

**(T.T.F. Part II)**

_And in your lonely flight__  
__haven't you heard the music in the night,__  
__wonderful music,__  
__faint as a will o' the wisp, crazy as a loon,__  
__sad as a gypsy serenading the moon._

_Oh, skylark, I don't know if you can find these things__  
__but my heart is riding on your wings.__  
__So if you see them anywhere__  
__won't you lead me there?_

-- Skylark, Johnny Mercer

* * *

Helga pressed her forehead against the bedroom window as her fingernails rapped out a beat against the glass. That feeling… it was so persistent—the dire need to find Arnold, to be where he was, and to fix whatever was so terribly, terribly wrong. She looked to her hand, or more exactly, to her left ring finger, around which she had tied her old pink ribbon (she direly wished she could remember why she had tied it there). But she couldn't worry over such little details; she had picked up so many strange idiosyncrasies lately that they almost felt normal. Almost.

Something about her skin seemed to crawl—no, to _vibrate_—and it was just, well… not normal. _Wrong._

Terribly wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

**X-o-X**

Brainy, or rather Brytholomeu T. Adlersparre, as his mother had chosen to call him (apparently Bartholomeu was too "common" a name), stood by his window, watching the storm. However, his mind chose to hover around the topic of his name. He hated it. He hated it now, and he hated it when he was a small child. His hatred for his name transcended time. Amazing, no?

When he was going into preschool, he couldn't even spell it, so his parents offered him a simple alternative should he be asked to write his name: Bryan. And he hated "Bryan" more than he hated "Brytholomeu", but when the time came to write what he would like to be called on a slip of paper, he chose the easy way out.

And wrote Brany. A simple spelling error, but one he would never live down.

"_There's an I in Brainy, deary," the teacher had said with a too-wide smile. _

"_Oooh! He thinks he's a real Frank-en-stein!" a small, but still obnoxious Harold sneered. _

"_That's _Einstein_, stupid! And who cares what he likes to be called. It's better than Hair-Old."_

It had been Helga who stood up for him, and in that moment, instantly carved a nice little space in his heart. Maybe "their" story wasn't an epic romance, but he loved her, and probably always would. Of course, she loved Arnold (and probably always would). It was one of those insatiable triangles, always feeding on their affections.

At the risk of seeming…well… creepy, he did love the ladies. Other ladies. Non-Helga ladies. He was a far cry from the unattractive little boy he once was (though his asthma persisted), and he did date, but no relationship lasted.

But Brytholomeu had the sneaking suspicion that Helga didn't even know his actual name; she still called him Brainy, if she called him anything at all. Of course, he would never complain or correct her.

Just as his thoughts began to take him under, he noticed something through the streaking rain outside his window, something far away.

Red.

He opened the window, welcoming in the downpour. Yes, there was definitely a spot of red bobbing from spotlight to spotlight, and beneath it, a bright flash of blonde.

**X-o-X**

The shadowy figure reeled forward and grabbed Arnold's shoulders tightly. "Arnold! What on earth have you been doing? You weren't with Alvaro. You haven't been there at all!"

"Dad!" he gasped. "I'm sorry. His daughter lied for me. Bad. I know. But—"

"We let you go into town, write to your friends, everything! Those are special privileges, Arnold. You can't just sneak off in the middle of the night, going God knows where!"

"I…" He shifted his feet uncomfortably. "How did you find me?"

"Don't change the subject," sighed Miles.

But, he didn't have to answer the question. One of Miles' hands was covered in a thick leather glove. He had used the loyal, deeply imprinted bat as a tracking device.

Arnold closed his eyes tightly. "I went home."

"No, we wouldn't be having this conversation if you had just gone—" The sentence faded away, and Miles stepped back from his son. "—home." The word fell flatly, strange and dead amongst the night-sounds of the forest. "That's okay!" His voice cracked boyishly, more than a little nervously. "It's not like we never checked up on you, you know! It's understandable, I mean, as long as you were discreet and nobody noticed and everything went on normally, well, no one would suspect. Just… try to… not go back…?"

The desperation in his father's voice sent guilt flooding through Arnold's veins and buzzing across his nerves. He inched backwards.

"Arnold…?"

Silence.

"Arnold… _no_."

"Just Helga. I hardly even spoke to anyone else! And definitely no one I was close with. It's just—"

"You're kidding right? Don't mess with your old dad like that." He chuckled joylessly.

"I need to help her. I don't even know what's happening!"

"You don't know what's happening? How can you…." Miles inhaled shakily. "How can you not even have any clue why we stay here? We don't leave! Just going into town is a risk!"

"I know why we stay here. The Eyes can be passed on. I get that. That was the whole point! Besides, you just said you used to check up on me."

"Yes. We did. But we didn't draw attention to ourselves. We didn't make contact with anyone. Your mother and I, we tried so hard to be careful, to only observe, and even then, only occasionally. If anyone finds out about you… what you've done... There's no coming back."

**x-O-x**

It was a warm, damp night. The rain had ceased falling and fog drifted lazily over the inky tar. Brytholomeu stalked down the street of his neighborhood, kicking pebbles as he went. There was no reason for him to be out, save for a flash of blonde beneath a spot of red. Still, vague as his almost-reason was, he had no desire to turn back.

Things had been a little (more like a lot) skewed since the return of Arnold. It wasn't just the taste in the air; people were missing. Even Arnold himself was nowhere to be found, in that no one knew where he was staying, or if he was even still in Hillwood.

When it was just Sid and Nadine, it was believed that they had run off together, that Sid had left first and returned for Nadine. Maybe they planned to elope, or some crazy kid thing. Then Rhonda disappeared. Maybe she was going to help them, financially, that is. She _was_ Nadine's best friend after all. But no withdraws had been made from any of the Lloyds' back accounts, and no recent credit card charges had been made. Rhonda had only just disappeared that day though; her card would be tracked periodically.

Although those three people were connected, Arnold broke the circuit. He didn't fit. Sure, he had attended elementary school with the three missing persons, but he never shared an especially close bond with any of them. He wrote them, yes, but nothing to warrant running away with them, if he was, indeed no longer in Hillwood. Jack O'Malley had seen him speaking with Rhonda on Wednesday and Timmy Kittle, a local movie theater employee, had seen Arnold and Rhonda earlier that day, but that was the only recent connection.

Perhaps it would be clever to rethink roaming the city after dark.

**X-o-X**

"It doesn't matter," said Arnold in an almost-whisper. "I can't let her down, not after—". He stopped himself there, choking back the admittance of his failure. His father didn't know about all of the disappearances back in Washington, and he didn't need to. It would only make the conversation so much worse. "I just can't. How do I help her? How can I make this right? _Please._"

Miles lowered his chin and placed a gentle hand on his son's back, leading him to a fallen tree trunk. "Sit down."

"B—but there's no time for that! I have to go back and… and…." With the realization that he was wasting time simply by arguing, Arnold sat down next to Miles.

"Why did you do it?"

Arnold closed his eyes, suddenly embarrassed. "She would fit in so well on The Peninsula. We got to be so close in junior high and… it's just hard to _really_ miss someone." The rest, he chose not to put into words—the need for that certain someone who had, for almost all of her life (and his) mocked, laughed at, comforted and, well, _loved_ him. He tilted his head back, partly to search for stars through the canopy, but mostly to avoid his father's eyes.

Miles smirked despite himself. "I see… but it would have been better to leave things be. It's complicated… No, actually, it's not. Things tend to go wrong when we're amongst outsiders, for them and for us. Besides, you couldn't just take that girl away from her family."

At the last sentence, Arnold's eyes snapped down. "Yes, I could. It's what she wanted."

**X-o-X**

The street signs changed and the streetlights were growing further between, bright anomalies in the darkness. Passing cars were fewer, until there were none to be seen. It was unsettling, being out alone, but Brytholomeu continued on….

Distance was measured in nervous, shuffling footsteps—5867 from home, to be exact—until came across the spot of red beneath one of the few lights of the narrow road.

It was an umbrella, now folded, its tip pressed against the sidewalk and its handle grasped by a familiar hand.

Helga's.

But there was nothing particularly shocking about finding her there. He wouldn't go out on a lonely night-walk for just anyone, after all. What _was_ shocking was that she was dressed up—a black knee-length dress with a high neckline of sheer chiffon that eventually met a lower line of darker fabric.

And as he approached, he noticed that dark lines around her eyes. Helga rarely wore eyeliner, mascara, or anything along those lines. She used to, at times, but mainly when Arnold was involved, or when her own self-assurance was down.

Oddly enough, despite the dress and make-up, she had been wandering the streets in her bare feet.

"Helga…. Uhm…" He glanced down to the road, steadying his mind. There was no need to fall back to his old mumbly, nearly wordless ways. "You really shouldn't be out…. this… uh… late… It's not s-s-safe…" Stuttering too? Ugh. Just perfect.

Helga looked up.

**X-o-X**

"Arnold, I don't think this life is what she wanted, or what you wanted. It's not fair. I know. If she's as unfortunate as you seem to believe, there's nothing we can do for her. There's no cure for the sleeping sickness—we've tried unsuccessfully to find one. There were tests, but they often required affected organisms, and it was difficult to acquire them. They were generally pets of the Peninsula families. And it's virtually impossible to create conditions under which they won't react with the environment. Factor in that they have to actually _survive_ in these conditions and, well, I'm sure you understand how difficult it was. We, along with the Green Eyes, decided that seclusion would be the best course of action. You can't affect what you're nowhere near. I wish there was something we could do for Helga, but the fact is, plain and simple, that your friend is unstable."

**X-o-X**

She just stared forward, right at that suddenly nervous, twitchy boy. The light hummed and flickered, shattering the halo it had thrown around her. As she stepped forward, Brytholomeu noticed the strangest thing, something wet and slimy clinging to the bottom of her heel, something that slipped off. And even in the low light, even at the distance he was at, he noticed pink under the grime.

Her ribbon, it just fell sloppily from her heel and was left in a watery pothole.

As Brytholomeu moved forward, Helga stepped back and leaned against the streetlight.

The light flickered sharply.

**X-o-X**

"The sleeping sickness? But… I thought that it couldn't be passed on."

"It can't be, not from someone who has it. It's an old belief that _La Corazon_ was a gift, from the Gods to Alejandra, a wandering fiddler. She was judged worthy to carry the burden of their collective heart, and with that burden she was granted a connectedness to all things. She could put others up for judgment as well, by asking them to gaze upon the relic. If accepted, their hearts too would connect to all things. But it _was_ a judgment, and some were rejected. Those who were rejected were converted into an energy which then feeds the life of the jungle. Alejandra accepted this, but found that her loved ones too underwent the judgment, although she had not introduced them to _La Corazon_. Her fiancé was the first. His eyes changed, but much to her horror, the change did not proceed normally—he was haunted by frantic dreams and burned the skin of those he touched. He had been rejected. In his last moments, he reached out for her, but she avoided him, and was forced to watch from a distance as the light consumed him.

Arnold, your Helga… I'm so very sorry that I can't help her, but I can tell you what will happen to her. She'll grow restless, and search for you, in an attempt to rid herself of the sickness. If she can't find you, she'll attempt, futilely, to pass it on to anyone she can find. This will either do nothing or speed up the reaction. It's difficult to say. Tell me… Where is she now?"

"She's in her bedroom…."

**X-o-X**

Why was it so quiet? Where were the cars, the people, and the creatures that lurked in trash cans and darted into building crevices? All of those sounds were eerily absent; there was only the buzzing flicker of the one streetlight. And his own footfalls.

**X-o-X**

"We can't leave her there. It isn't safe. We'll need to bring her out here, to one of the old containment areas."

"So we can help her, right?"

"I already told you, there's nothing that can be done."

And all feeling fled Arnold's veins, because 'nothing' was sad and final and it couldn't be true. 'Nothing' doesn't exist—it's a lie told by people who simply aren't able to find the actually 'something'.

Never say never and never do nothing.

Arnold turned from his father and dashed through the tangle of vines and wild, towering trees.

**X-o-X**

Helga was just standing there, totally and utterly wrong with her bare feet on the wet tar which shone darkly under the light (which was also wrong, bright where nothing else was).

And Brytholomeu was just standing there, staring at her. Something in her eyes was off. She had always been guarded, muffling any evidence that may suggest she was a little softer around the edges. But this thing in her eyes wasn't suppressed emotion, it was something entirely different.

Pain?

He couldn't be sure, but those eyes, they held him captive. Helga had always had sharp, expressive eyes, a dark blue with silver flecks. No… the flecks were silver at the rims, but green near the pupils. No, the entire irises were green, dark and demanding with those radioactive flecks.

But why would he ever think they were blue?

How could he make such a stupid mistake?

Such a stupid, stupid mistake.

* * *

**Oh my… Looks awkward, no? I love, yet hate this chapter ((shrugs)). It leaves a funny taste in my mouth when I read it over. And concerning the end, I have no intention of telling you just what goes on between them. xD Brainy might just drag her back to her home…. or… not… ((shrugs)) You see, my original thought was that Green Eyed people had a certain sway over other people, especially when they're attempting to pass on (and in Helga's case, completely rid herself of) their Eyes (note Helga at the end of (T.T.F. Pt. 1). Poor Helga, trying to rid herself of something that is believed to be… unriddable? xD **

**Also… San Lorenzo is a fictional peninsula (although there is a real San Lorenzo peninsula). In my story "the peninsula" is completely different from "The Peninsula" (Arnold is currently on "the peninsula"). The capitalized version is where the Green Eyed people live. It's awesome. But sadly, it probably won't be described much. See how creative I am with naming things? I just capitalize a letter and huzzah! Completely different! xD **

**Anyway, this didn't take quite as long to update as I expected, even though school has be busier than I expected. Seriously. I have like two to five hours of homework each night (depending on if I understand it). But this chapter was just begging to get out of my head… so yeah… **


	13. A Paperweight In The Jungle

**Just in case anyone out there likes to know the times in fics, this chapter starts at approximately 2:30 AM (for Helga) and 5:30 AM (for Arnold). That would make it early Friday morning for both. It's around hour after the previous chappie. **

**This chapter's title went through more changes than any of my other chap titles (seriously, I changed it again since I wrote this), but I think I'm finally happy with it. xD This chapter is extra-choppy, so be warned (of course, all my chapters are kinda choppy, but this one is a little more so) Also, I'll explain the main italicized bits a little after the chapter.**

**Chapter Thirteen: A Paperweight in the Jungle**

**(Alternate Title: Within and Without)**

_We were talking-about the love we all could share-when we find it  
To try our best to hold it there-with our love  
With our love-we could save the world-if they only knew.  
Try to realize it's all within yourself  
No-one else can make you change  
And to see you're really only very small,  
And life flows within you and without you._

_-- "Within You and Without You", _The Beatles

* * *

The water was warm against her bare skin, and the walls were so close. Tiles. There were tiles on the walls and the door was a cloudy-clear green. It dawned on her then—she was in her shower because…

(_I was outside_).

…there had been mud on her feet…

(_And I wasn't alone._)

…and she had to wash it off before she went to bed…

(_There was light_.)

…because she didn't want to get her sheets dirty, after all…

(_And… someone screamed_.)

Her eyes were so hot; the shower water burned them terribly. She rubbed briskly at her eyelids, and as she caught sight of her hands, she screamed, back thrust against the shower wall, nearly causing her to lose her footing

Black.

She had been crying and her tears were black—oh, so black, sooty and terrible, completely inhuman.

_(Mascara_.)

There was nothing to be worried about. She had been wearing eye make-up. It was only natural for it to wash off. But the realization didn't calm her, because she _had_ been crying and there obviously _was _something to cry over… There had been mud on her feet and red marks down her arms… But she couldn't remember. It was something important… Something…

(_Something with a J…? Jacob, Jeffery…)_

No… The thought didn't even make sense. She didn't even _know_ a Jacob, Jeffery, or any other generically J-named person. Even still, Helga found herself with her fingers splayed across her face, deep in the strangle-hold of a sobbing-fit, water streaming down her hair. Why…? What was it? What was so important to have such a hold over her?

(_I have to know his name, right? I've known the guy since pre-school!_)

"Damn it!" she choked out through the tears. Her head swam and spun; the world blurred over, speckled by flowering off-white lights. She clung desperately to the washcloth rack.

Helga found that she didn't care to stand around as the pieces slowly fell into place, one by one, until the picture became clear. It was so close, whatever it was she didn't quite want to know. It would take so very little for everything to click, just a moment of thought, a second to reach for that memory, but no. Her mouth tasted of salt and it was just too much. Before she could allow herself to make sense of the situation, Helga grabbed a robe and ran blindly into the hall.

The hall felt so much narrower than normal; those walls were closing in, bending and curving into wicked smiles. She slammed clumsily into the woodwork until she managed to find her own room.

And she didn't know what she was doing, didn't notice the state of disarray her room was in, didn't even feel the cold metal under her fingers as she flung open that closet door.

**X-o-X**

Arnold had expected his father to follow him, to stop him, but it had been upwards of an hour, and no one was anywhere near.

All those thoughts, those doubts, he couldn't let them follow him, couldn't let them weigh him down. He had to be proactive. Helga was in trouble; something in her molecular make-up was changing. If his father's words were to be taken literally, Helga would soon become 'light'.

And if he were to let his mind go down that path, rushing past knowledge of mass, energy, and turning the former into the latter, well… he'd rather not think about it.

In a matter of seconds, his plans veered sharply. Maybe he could just return to The Peninsula, forget everything that had occurred over the past week, and let the cogs turn on their own back in Hillwood. It would be the easiest thing to do, the very unheroic thing, mind you, but so very easy. His childhood home and everyone in it could be left to their own devices. That little corner of the world would fix itself…

(_or crumble away_)

…and Helga…

Arnold's eyes watered over and his legs gave out, because it shouldn't be this way; he shouldn't have to be making this decision and he found himself wishing that his father _had_ followed him, because he was still just a kid and he didn't want to return to the point where he was everyone's strength.

**X-o-X**

Everything beyond that point was green, vibrant and pulsing, glittering under a thick haze. And she rushed in because it was more important than that still-dark room, more important than whatever had happened previously that night.

As Helga's foot hit the closet space, the ground lost substance and a slamming sound came from behind. She reached for the clothing bar, for a hanger, for anything that could keep her from floating off into the ether, but any matter that had been present prior faded under her fingertips. Those vibrations hummed over her skin and every instinct she had urged her to scream.

But something through that haze caught her attention and stole her breath away. A speck of gold, bright and shining against the night.

Helga could see him—a million mile away, blurry through the distance that just barely separated them—back against a tree, hands digging into the soft earth, staring forward with wide, glassy eyes.

And again, she felt that overwhelming need to be near him, and to love him, because she barely knew him. She knew and adored the Arnold who shared umbrellas (and crackers), who knew she was good inside and who would go to the extremes rescue anyone and everyone in distress. But this Arnold, the Arnold who realized just how easy it was to get a Peninsula girl to hide his secrets for him, who didn't quite think things through, and who shatters in the wilds of the jungle because sometimes, when the bright side can't be seen through those primordial trees, he's a little less than perfect—Helga didn't know this Arnold.

The hazy green nothing held her in place. Though she tried to move, struggled to reach Arnold, she couldn't, and this time, she did scream. She screamed his name over and over, into the misty space that was neither her closet nor the jungles of the San Lorenzo peninsula.

**X-o-X**

Something was whispering at the edge of his mind, not a voice, but a feeling, far away but demanding all the same. This was exactly what he shouldn't—no, _couldn't_ be doing, what he had even been telling himself not to do. Come what may, Arnold had to keep moving forward, because there were certain ties which uncertainties and fears could not break.

He took a trembling breath before pulling one of two familiar, crinkled and folded papers out of his left jean pocket. It was a letter, written for him, but never intended to reach him; it had been written before the sender even knew of an address to mail to, and it told in simple cursive letters just why he had to go on.

**X-o-X**

_I like to believe that yesterday isn't as far away as some delusional people would have me think—that the past exists in more than memories and photo albums, childhood toys and unsent letters. I like to believe that sometimes, you can walk through a sun-parched field and be there again. _

_Maybe one day, I'll find a way to make time work in reverse. I'll travel to the edges of the earth just to find that field, and I'll have time. __We'll__ have time…_

_You and me… _

_Sometimes, it's hard to think about. _

**X-o-X**

Arnold moved slowly, contemplatively, into the magnetic pull of The Peninsula. Passages could not be linked to The Peninsula; there was only one, and the closer he got to it, the stronger its draw became.

**X-o-X**

_Even writing about it is hard. I used to think it would be easier, to just write you this big, romantic letter. But, gah! A romantic letter? Really? How pathetic is that? I'd much rather be able to talk to you, face to face. _

_I wonder who you are now. It's only been half a year, but still… Sometimes, I even wonder who I am. Not in the stupid I-don't-know-where-I'm-going way, though. It's like… If I could stand right next to my younger self… what would she think? If we could talk, what would she tell me? Am I living up to her standards? Or would she just roll her eyes at everything I say and cram a fist in my face? Probably, and I wouldn't blame her, because she was firecrackers and extra-hot salsa. And she would never let go…_

…_of you._

**X-o-X**

The tunnel was dark, dank, and damp. It swallowed up any crumbs of hope in a single gulp.

The voices were somehow far more important there than they would be on any other corner of the planet, echoing through the black spaces, with water dripping from the walls and that stale smell that covered everything.

"I'm not doing this, not again. _You_ drive out to the mountains this time. It's your turn."

"Can't we just leave her down here? No one would ever find her!"

"And if they did? We could never use this location again. And if you _just_ left her here, she'd run around all willy-nilly, making a racket. Not a pleasant image."

Marvel Man paced down the length of the station, the entrance of which had been cemented long ago. "But… I'd rather not, you know… Well… _you know! _Besides, _you_ brought her here!"

"Yeah. I brought them here and got rid of two of them. You should have to do something." Mr. Peepers started for the tracks of the tunnel. "This was a complete waste of time," he muttered.

Mr. Peepers was soon out of Rhonda's range of hearing, and Marvel Man began pouring something onto a rag.

"What does this smell like to you?" he asked with a sigh, as though he was heavily burdened by some tedious task.

"No!" Rhonda squeezed her eyes shut and pressed further back against the wall, cheek against the cold stone. "…Besides, I already fell for that twice," she added tinily.

"That you did, my little Miss Fury." He covered her nose with the cloth. "But you have to breathe sometime."

**X-o-X**

_Where did you go, Arnold? Why won't you write? You're out there, I know you are, but you have to reach out. _

_I love you, I love you, IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. You were always the only thing that could outshine the sun. You were a damned solar eclipse, if the moon were to grow ten million times its size and catch fire. _

_And I wrote 'were', didn't I? 'You were'. You were great and you were this undeniable proof that there was still good out there. Where are you now? What town are you playing superhero in? ...Because this one sure needs you. _

**X-o-X**

Hand to stone. Light.

And Arnold William Gavin Mann disappeared off the face of the earth.

The non-world was so similar; nothing appeared missing. But although he was almost at the tip of the Peninsula, music could be heard playing near the mainland, celebrating the rise of the sun. The festivities took place daily and never failed to put a smile on his face; but this morning, he would have to avoid the city which bordered the mainland.

At the edge of a plunge pool, where a gargantuan waterfall spilled diamonds over the rocks, Arnold stopped, staring into the depths of the water. He pulled off his shirt and paused, leaving two sheets of wrinkled paper in its folds before kicking off his shoes and diving in.

**X-o-X**

The girl sank slowly, despite the bags of rocks tied to her arms and legs. She was completely unconscious, so there would be no worry of her untying herself.

This method was clean and easy, without that bitter aftertaste. Perhaps Superman and his Superbuddies wouldn't quite approve, but they should at least applaud his best attempts to relieve her suffering.

Marvel Man rowed back towards Elk Island, where one of two uncemented entrances to the partially underwater subway station remained.

**X-o-X**

_Did you ever sense that I would do anything for you? That we were connected so closely, it was a little scary sometimes? You didn't have to know it, there was I time when I didn't either. We only had to feel it, and in our ten years of fighting and friendship, I think you must have. I know I sure did._

**X-o-X**

Arnold gasped and coughed as he surfaced, treading water beneath stalagmites which hung from the cathedral ceiling of the sea cave. Spheres of light had gathered in the heights of the cave, casting a glow over the calcium formations and illuminating the water below a dim indigo.

Arnold watched them as he caught his breath, noting the way they huddled together, as though desperate for one another. The little lights commonly floated along The Peninsula at night, but retreated to the cave at the start of the morning celebrations. Maybe they didn't like the sun, or the celebrations startled them, or perhaps something in the cave attracted them like moths to the moon.

Whatever the reason, he couldn't help but wonder if this was where wishes go, because although they didn't blink, and although they were each roughly the size of a half-dollar, those pale-green lights so reminded him of fireflies.

**X-o-X**

Wild green scenes blurred past Helga, and she could feel the tears coming again.

Mountains. Rope bridges which spanned for miles. Waterfalls with hidden chambers behind their clear curtains. A long-abandoned village. One crumbling temple. A runestone. And then, nothing.

She was tracking him, dashing through the jungle, willing to risk anything, _everything_, to reach him. But she couldn't see any further, though she could still feel him somewhere, a brick wall had sprouted up in her path.

That glittering green mist had grown thicker and Helga scowled at it, screamed at it, tried so franticly to hold onto her vision of Arnold.

But he wasn't there_…_and the mist was closing in.

"_Arnold…_"

And her skin—she was so aware of her skin. Those vibrations…

"_Please_… come back…" Her fears reached a fever pitch and her voice raised an octave, "…_NOW!_"

**X-o-X**

_But I'm still writing in the past tense and that's the problem. All I think about is you and you and more of you. 'You' fill hundreds of notebooks, page after page—all you. _

_Do you remember eighth grade, when you met my aunt? We were watching some old movie and she asked if my 'boyfriend' and I wanted some pizza. _

_I laughed. You laughed. I rolled my eyes._

_And we went back to watching the movie…like she never said a thing._

**X-o-X**

The ledge under Arnold's fingertips was slick with algae and gently lapping waves. It was barely large enough to sit on; just two feet back was a nearly-vertical, jagged stone wall. Arnold pulled himself up and began feeling along the familiar stone for a handhold.

Two years ago, in a fit of feverish curiosity, he had followed those half-dollar night nights beneath the waterfall and into the sea cave. He thought he'd lost them once they shot into rock of that wall, but the light they gave off had been enough to illuminate a small gap between the wall and the cave ceiling.

**X-o-X**

_Okay, that's it._

_I'm done playing games and writing in circles. _

**X-o-X**

Arnold stumbled the final meters into the small cavern, and the light within overwhelmed him. Hundreds of night lights had gathered in the far corner of the cavern, glowing a cold green and buzzing excitedly.

**X-o-X**

Helga gasped. The air felt heavier and the mist was dissipating. Everything around her suddenly became so very… normal, and so very, very constricting. Her feet touched ground and she collapsed against the closet wall.

**X-o-X**

_I love you. I'll __always__ love you. But you're gone, and I might never know how you felt, __if__ you felt. I don't even know where to mail this!_

**X-o-X**

He moved towards them, shadowing his eyes with one hand as he approached an intricately carved stand atop a dais.

**X-o-X**

_So, I'm writing to let you know how I felt, and how I feel… _

**X-o-X**

He dropped to his knees before the dais. "Please… help," he whispered beneath the lime-green glow of the night lights.

**X-o-X**

…_and just why I need to let go…_

…_and move on._

—_With Endless Love, _

_Helga Geraldine Pataki. _

…………………………**.**

**

* * *

  
**

**Well… That took FOREVER to update! xD It was mighty hard to write too. Dunno why. **

**So… Obviously, the main italics bits are Helga's first letter to Arnold, probably written half a year or so after he first left, before Helga knew he was with his parents. Arnold probably overheard her reading it, or found it in her closet, and realized something quite strange: She loved him, and she was willing to move on from him. **

**Hm… So, Arnold wrote to our dear Helga (and everyone else) and Helga was overcome with guilt and tried to write back. Of course, that first letter weighed on her mind and she couldn't bring herself to send Arnold anything. How could she even consider living without him? ((shakes head)) Of course, in my story, Arnold is just as obsessive as Helga (the thought of her moving on, even though he didn't exactly consider her in a romantic light, hit him pretty hard. Plus, the whole plan to move her to the jungle with him… yup. Obsessive.).**

**This story is so close to being done; it's crazy! We have two, maybe three chapters to go. Probably. Yeah… That sounds about right. **


	14. Rose Tinted Glasses

**Chapter 14: Rose-Tinted Glasses**

Arnold put his head to the cold stone of the stand. No voice whispered the answer, and the cavern's only light emanated from those swirling lime-green orbs. "Come on," he pleaded, "there has to be something…. anything I can do to stop this. I was stupid and selfish and… it's my fault," he stated firmly. "It's _my _fault. I did this. Sid, Nadine, Rhonda… Those people, they followed _me_. I don't know how but… Helga, I can save her, right? I can fix this… can't I?" That question… The need to fix everything; it weighed him down; yet it couldn't be dropped, left for some other young hero. He wished it could. "Just… _please t—_"

A beat, carried through the stone, just barely, found his ears.

And another, rhythmic and calming.

His heart slowed, keeping pace with the sound as he got to his feet, gazing down at La Corazon. The relic wasn't particularly pretty—gray with irregular round lumps, as if something had once boiled inside of it. But he was captivated all the same. That lump of stone… it had a heart beat.

But that made sense, didn't it? La Corazon was, after all, the collective heart of the gods of the Peninsula.

The same magnetism which had pulled him towards the Peninsula guided his hand towards the stone. The nightlights pulled in closer, eagerly, as his fingertips touched its surface.

**X-o-X**

Jack O'Malley liked to hit the waters early, when everything was so very still. The fish were a sleepy sort of calm and they were only just beginning to search for food. With any luck, the storms of the previous night hadn't startled them into hiding.

He rowed out to the middle of the lake and dropped a cast net.

**X-o-X**

Arnold was met with the same breathless sensation that accompanied entering a passage. Unlike countless times before, however, nothing solidified around him. He found himself sitting (_Sitting? Is there even ground here?) _in the glittering green haze that separates worlds.

There were approaching footfalls, echoing as though the floor were hollow. More importantly, that sound had purpose. Whoever was coming wanted to be heard, and the voice which followed made Arnold's stomach tie itself in a pretty little knot.

"Well, if it isn't our brave ole' Footballhead."

**X-o-X**

A mass of black caught Jack's attention. It sort of floated, lighter than the fearful fish beneath. Then, there was red—cloth?—and suddenly, Jack was pulling his net much faster than he typically would, raising the netted figure from the murk.

He had caught a girl, and damn it, he knew the girl. "Oh, mun-uh…. Uh… _Rhonda?_" He touched the side of her face. Nothing.

And if junior high had been worth nothing else, its health class had at least taught him CPR.

**X-o-X**

"Helga….?"

"You know it, lover-boy." The girl smirked coldly as she circled him. "You're really something, y'know that?" The haze clouded the bright green fireflies of her eyes.

Not Helga…

"Ever the strapping young hero, on a quest to save the damsel. His is a noble intention." She placed a hand on her heart and her face softened. "And yet, there's a bit of a death toll where he walks… And the boy doesn't even care."

"They're my friends," Arnold said, quietly. "I…" …'m not the one who killed them? Not much of an excuse. He straightened a little.

"What? No vindication? This is your fault. You did this. All of it. I'm just another tick of the clock, eh? You set a time bomb out to wreak havoc on the streets. And that poor guy with the asthma… What's his name? Something with a T—?" The non-Helga sat down beside Arnold and put a hand on his shoulder. "I wonder what I _did_ to him…"

"Wh—…?" A pause. "Just let me fix this. If I let Helga be… no good can come of that. No one else needs to get hurt. Not Helga. Not anyone."

"Do you honestly think that you didn't want this to happen? The Eyes want to be passed on; even when they're not killing us, _we_ _want_ to move this thing along. Continue a tradition, share the sensation. No matter the consequences. And the few people stuck in the crossfire, that's only a very minor thing."

Arnold shot to his feet then. "Minor? Why are you doing this, if Helga's so dangerous? I came here for help, not for a lecture on right and wrong… or whatever this is." He looked back to the blonde, but her face had changed.

"Of course not, dear. You know all about morals." Rhonda Wellington Lloyd tipped him a wink. "Do you even care where I am right now?"

**X-o-X**

Rhonda lurched forward, coughing. She was on the pier, and there were the beginnings of a sunrise on the water. Below, a boat ebbed away with the current.

"Muhhn-keh…" When the coughing stopped, Jack let himself relax and cleared his throat. "What are you _doing _out here? We have to get you home…"

Rhonda sat, hands pressed against the damp wood, as nausea came and went. "…No."

His mouth made confused, questioning shapes before any sound came out. "No. _No?_ What do you mean 'no'? You're supposed to be missing, not floating in the lake. Oh, munke-eh…."

"My friends—Sid and Nadine. I think they're still there. Those people, they needed information. Sid knew stuff. They… This used to be your _thing_, Jack… Let's go."

Rhonda was frantic, crazy, offer her rocker—anything but right. In the dim early-sun, Jack couldn't see the skin-proof "Go?"

"The abandoned bit of the subway tunnel. Cold, dark, and now there are chains on the walls and syringes and… electric….things… I don't know, but we should do something." She was standing at this point, moving towards the boat when Jack's hand came down on her shoulder.

"I don't do that anymore. I'm not… I grew up, and we need the police." His hand fell away and he took a step back. "Now, stay here. There's a police station nearby, and generally guards around this neighborhood. Five minutes. Twenty tops. Stay."

And Rhonda did stay. She stayed, and thought about Nadine, and Sid, and the abandoned homes near the docks, where Sid had first seen Arnold.

Rhonda stayed… and hoped that Jack didn't run into any guards.

**X-o-X**

"Why do you keep saying I don't care? All I do is care. That's the whole reason I came here." Arnold's eyes were burning, glassy behind unshed tears.

There was a strange look in the girl's bright green eyes, something Arnold couldn't quite decipher through the fog. "You didn't come here for me. Or the rest of us, for that matter. But mainly me. Really, Arnold. You're a bit of a tease. There's a girl on the Peninsula who thinks she saved the world or some such nonsense, just by helping you; there's even a girl who's died, and another on her deathbed. Just for you. So special."

"Coming here wouldn't save you, or Nadine, or Sid… None of you had the sickness. I made sure to stay away from everyone but Helga. She was the only—"

"But you didn't…" The non-Rhonda stood, brushing off her pants and tugging habitually at the bottom of her shirt. "Sid followed your tracks. Nadine got curious. And me, well, I just had a friendly conversation with you on the pier."

Nothing was right here. This god-upper-being-whatever-it-was was playing games while Helga was in a life-and-death limbo and Arnold himself was swallowing mouthfuls of guilt. "So, what do you want me to say? I said I was wrong, and that it was selfish. Yes, I was stuck there on that amazing place and I couldn't tell anyone, and maybe I wanted to… I didn't think it was wrong to want a piece of home with me, but… Not wring, but it was immature…. Just tell me what to do. _Anything_."

Non-Rhonda smiled. "So, then, what now? What do you want most?"

Arnold's lips parted automatically, but he stood in a nanosecond of quiet, speeding-train-ready-for-the-crash thought. "I can't have that."

"And when the chips are down, when you're staring down the other end of the gun… What are you going to do?"

**X-o-X**

Maybe she waited for five minutes; maybe even the full twenty. But she couldn't just stand there any longer. Rhonda kneeled at the edge of the pier and pulled the boat in.

No one else was going to save her friends.

No one else was going to be the hero.

This was Rhonda's first battle.

And she was going to win.

With a wisp of a smile,

Rhonda told herself

That she would

Definitely

Win.

**X-o-X**

Arnold's greatest hope was that his face was calm, that his eyes were steady, that the Thing before him couldn't see his inside shake. He closed his eyes. "I'll do what it takes."

"Good enough," came the dismissive answer as the girl disappeared and the haze swallowed Arnold whole. It was suffocatingly thick, flashing hot and cold, bright behind his eyelids and just under his skin. Maybe deeper than that. The space hummed around him until ground solidified beneath his feet.

Arnold William Gavin Mann was exactly where he needed to be, and he knew what he had to do.

And he didn't even have to question the price of his clarity.

……………………………………

……………………………………

**Did I seriously just update this? … But a couple people suggested that this be finished, so I blame them (for absolutely nothing). What's left of this story is a (very short) …. (unwritten) 15****th**** chapter, the (already written, though I'm not especially fond of it, as I fail at endings… really… not my strong-suit-forte-cup-of-tea-thing) 16****th**** chapter… and possibly an epilogue, which feels (to me) necessary to finish out the story, but is also a set-up for a sequel I doubt I'll write. **

**And despite how little there is left, I still make no promises for finishing this. Even though I probably will… I might not. Yeah…. Give me the indecisive crown! I am the queen! (…)**


	15. Arnold

**Chapter 15: Arnold**

The closet door was barely ajar. Arnold breathed in as the scent of forest changed to that of Helga's bedroom—a smell that wasn't stereotypically feminine, floral or sweet, but did feel like home. He pushed the door open to find it thump against something soft. Helga was lying just outside the closet and the air around her was so thick, electrically charged.

Arnold's head swam and he reached to touch her. The flesh of the girl's arm buzzed under her touch and he felt a sudden surge of energy shoot up his fingertips and straight through him. Arnold pulled away with a gasp and it all made sense, as if the spark had gone straight to his mind, lighting that clichéd lightbulb.

He could fix this. Helga could not pass on what she was given… but he could take it from her. He had gone through so much trouble for Helga, so it was his obligation to fix this, right? It would be so easy not to… to just leave her, run away, continue his life somewhere else. And with the company of the trouble that so loved to walk with him, life would never be boring. Of course, that would not be the Arnold thing to do…

Arnold breathed out and placed his hands just above Helga's breast. He could feel her heartbeat and a moment later, a burning sensation of electricity flooding into him. Everything became so bright, flickering—the pain of a gift denied and a life unlived, all made vividly real and shocking away whatever fantasy-world he had dreamed up. There was a sound in his ears, a high-pitched whine, and Arnold found himself wondering whether or not he was screaming.

And it was done. Helga no longer buzzed with charge; she made a soft whining sound and rolled over, unperturbed from her sleep. Arnold stood up.

The sun filtered through the curtains, casting a stark beam across the room to Helga's bed, cutting a sharp line through the shadow wherein now stood a football-headed boy.

At the moment, Arnold wanted only to run back to the boarding house—to climb to his bedroom and curl up under the covers as the morning light filled his skylight… because nothing bad could ever happen surrounded by powder-blue and warm sunrays.

But he didn't do that; he knew what could result from such a childish desire. Instead, Arnold retreated into Helga's closet and closed his eyes, feeling for the presence of _somewhere else_.

The pressure hit his chest suddenly, harsh and breath-stealing. The flash of green was blinding and the glittering haze blurred his vision, making it difficult to differentiate between the spinning landscapes. Where was it he was trying to get to? Somewhere safe. Quiet. Familiar.

He reached out and the world solidified around him—dew-speckled grass disappearing before the dark mouth of a cave, its breath chilly under the morning light.

It was perfect… or would have been perfect, had there not been a sound. A hurried, frantic, and very, very human sort of sound. Arnold moved towards it, slowly, very aware of the friction of his clothing against his skin, and of the humming which had built in his ears.

He followed that very-human sound, into the cave and down the stairs of the subway station.

"Rhonda?" He moved forward, momentarily forgetting where he was, and just why he was there.

But it only took an instant for Arnold to regret drawing attention to himself. The relief reflected in Rhonda's teary eyes as she skipped up two of the steps churned his stomach.

"Arnold! Thank God!" she chirped, glad despite her stressed expression. "You're here! You can help! I don't want to go alone…They… There are these guys, and one of them reads Marvel Comics… and the other one… he's creepy. They're _both_ creepy. But they took Sid and Nadine. I think they might still be alive, if we hurry. He… the man… he mentioned driving to the mountains, but he could have meant anything really, and _you_… Oh, Arnold, they want _you_."

Arnold tried to concentrate on Rhonda's voice, but the sound in his ears and the vibrations over his skin could not go ignored…

"It's a long walk," Rhonda continued. "And I waited for Jake to leave….Did you know that Monkeyman dyed his hair?"

"What?"

"He… I…." She began ascending the stairs again, but lost her footing on the top step. Arnold rushed to her aid, taking her hands and pulling her up.

"You have to help me. I don't care… Nadine, Sid_…_."

'_So, Jungle Boy, how far away is the storm?'_

Her voice was so far away.

"Arnold…? Your hands… It… _burns…_" She tried to back down the stairs, but Arnold held her firmly in place.

He didn't want to die. There was so much to live for, so much to do, and he couldn't do any of it if he allowed himself to be the martyr, the savior, the hero, and the _Arnold_.

"Arnold, please…_ let_ _go!_" Despite Rhonda's plea, those hands pulled Rhonda closer. In a panic, Rhonda wracked her brain for something, anything, to convince Arnold to simply release her. "I… we… have to help… save… save my… our…." She couldn't think. Her thoughts filled with light and she grasped for anything left undone, anything which would evoke pity. "I still have to finish my essay," she whispered airily. "I want… Arnold…?"

The vibrations pulsed between their hands, through their veins, into Rhonda's eyes. Her irises glowed with forks of frozen lightening.

With a quick breath and the continual thought that he would have no regrets (_no regrets, no, _none), Arnold closed his eyes and kissed her sharply. There were sparks, in the moment before theirs lips crashed together, and the temperature of her flesh rose to the point where it was becoming painful to hold her.

Her skin…there was something insubstantial about her skin; Arnold had the prickling sensation that, should he tighten his grip, his fingers would go straight through her (_and burn, burn, burn_).

And suddenly, everything felt different… quieter… He pulled away then, but the light grew around Rhonda, or rather _inside _Rhonda (her eyes… such a bright green)… and that one piercing note continued to build,

All around them,

Everywhere.

When Arnold could no longer stand to keep his hold on Rhonda, he ran...

Behind him, he could feel the light growing, pushing him forward, urging him not to look back.

In an instant, a cosmic flashbulb went off and the world was painted white. He couldn't remember much… but maybe that was a good thing.

The world came back; it always did. The population count of Hillwood, Washington had dropped again… but that was okay.

Arnold stood in the shallowest part of the lake, looking out over where trees used to be, where grass had grown… and where Rhonda had stood... Even though his eyes felt dry, he just couldn't will them to close… and that was alright.

Arnold stared on.

And, he thought to himself, that he was okay, he was fine…

There were so many things he could do now… things that did not require him to be the martry, the savior, the hero…

…or the Arnold.

…

**I found this in my documents, partially fimished… So I finished it up. I am sorry if it's a bit choppy or sudden. There was intended to be another chapter or two before this, but I couldn't remember my ideas for the story well enough to write them. I originally wanted to write another story wherein Helga goes to find Arnold, grown-up Jungle Movie style. And Brainy is alive (though scarred from his misadventure with Helga that night) and goes with Helga… and Arnold is a bit of a loveable villain, cuz I love those sort of characters. **


End file.
